Sketches  From  Life 


BV  4811 


Sketches  from  life;  or 
Illustrations  of  the 


i4-^ 


'S*: 


/c 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE 


OR, 


ILLUSTRATIONS  OF  THE  INFLUENCE  OF 
CHRISTIANITY. 


PUBLISHED   BY  THE 
AMERICAN    TRACT    SOCIETY, 

150  NASSAU-STREET,  NEW  YORK. 


This  volume  consists  wholly  of  articles  selected  from 
the  successive  numbers  of  the  "American  Messenger," 
to  the  middle  of  its  thirteenth  volume.  No  other  changes 
have  been  made,  than  to  adapt  the  phraseolog}'  in  a  few- 
instances  to  a  permanent  volume,  and  to  classify  its  sub- 
jects so  as  to  add,  it  is  hoped,  to  the  interest  and  profit  of 
its  readers.  As  presented  to  the  public  in  this  form,  it  is 
b'elieved,  that  by  the  divine  blessing,  the  labors  of  the  re- 
spected writers  of  these  narratives  may  be  more  widely 
and  lastingly  extended.  The  signatures  of  the  estimable 
authors  being  in  many  instances  well  known,  will  add 
interest  to  their  papers. 


// 


f.  prihcetg: 


\tiieologiga::.  / 


CONTENTS. 


con\t:rsion. 

George  Taylor,    .         .         .         .  • 11 

An  iufidel  Blacksmith, 16 

A  Gentleman  in  Boston 22 

A  rational  Sceptic, 23 

A  Scoffer, 24 

A  Merchant  in  Boston,      .......  26 

A  profane  Student, 30 

An  infidel  Student, 33 

"  Do  let  Me  alone,*' 3g 

A  daring  Opposer  in  Pennsylvania,  ....  40 

A  Deaf  Mute, 44 

An  Indian's  Gift  to  Christ, 45 

The  Bird  in  the  Church, 46 

The  Sea-captain, 51 

The  Last  Resolve, 56 

Poor  William, 59 

Poor  Dinah, 64 

Aunt  Delphy, 67, 

A  Vagabond,       ■•.......  70 

A  Pupil  at  Mount  Holyoke, 72 

A  returning  Prodigal, 75 

A  Model  of  Morality, 77 

An  unexpected  Inquirer, 81 

A  Mistaken  Sinner, 82 

The  Blind  Preacher, 87 


G  CONTENTS. 

HOLY  OBEDIENCE. 

A  Dying  Girl,            . 89 

A  Tempted  young  Man,        .         .         ...         .         .         .92 

Nancy  and  her  Pastor, 94 

A  Farmer's  Daughter, 98 

A  Faithful  Elder, Ill 

The  Elder's  eldest  Son, 115 

A  Sabbath-school  Teacher, 119 

SIGHT  OF  PRAYER 

Tkree  Praying  Friends, 123 

AFFLICTION. 

A  Pool-  Widow, 125 

Henry  L ,  the  deformed  Boy, 12G 

A  Dying  Man, 128 

A  Mother  from  Wales, 130 

The  Faithful  Nurse, 132 

A  Sick  Man  of  the  South, 134 

The  First  and  Last  Communion, 138 

A  Dying  Son, 141 

DEATH. 

A  Wife  and  Mother, 144 

A  Suffering  Christian, 147 

A  Poor  Widow's  Son, 151 

The  Dying  Regret  of  Harriet, 157 

The  Slave  John, ■    ...  163 

Joseph,  the  Minister's  Son, 168 

A  Student  for  the  Ministry, 173 

Emma, 175 

RELIGION  IN  THE  DOMESTIC  CIRCLE, 

A  Catholic  Husband  and  Wife, 177 

My  Wife  is  the  Cause  of  it, 180 

A  Gambler  and  his  Wife, 183 

The  Door  was  Shut, 185 

A  Proud  Husband  and  his  Wife, 187 

The  Young  Wife's  Prayer, 191 

Woman's  Faith  and  Patience, 193 

The  Faithful  Wife, 196 


CONTENTS.  7 

A  Minister's  Sou  and  liis  Wife, 197 

The  Troubled  Conscience, 199 

The  lost  Bank-note, 201 

Influence  of  a  Wife, 202 

The  Aurora  Borealis, 205 

Return  of  the  Prodigal,        .         .         .       '  .         .         .         .211 

A  Young  Choir  Leader, 216 

Little  Johnny  and  his  Father, 219 

"My  Mother's  Prayers,"  .         ......  222 

The  Youngest  Son, 224 

A  Cavilling  Sceptic, 226 

A  Praying  Sou  and  his  Father, 228 

A  Wayward  Son, 229 

A  Youngest  Son  and  his  Mother, 230 

A  Sceptical  Father, 232 

An  Elder  and  his  Daughter, 235 

An  Only  Daughter, 236 

The  Only  Son 237 

DOMESTIC  REMINISCENCES. 

But  One  Thing  Wanted, 244 

The  First  Prayer  in  the  Family, 247 

The  Earnest  Inquiry, 248 

A  Scene  at  Family  Worship, 250 

Forty  Years' Experience  of  Family  Prayer,      .         .         .  251 

Poor  Zeke  and  his  Prayers, 256 

A  Dying  Patriarch, 259 

A  Mother's  Prayers, 262 

A  Sister's  Love, 264 

A  Prodigal's  Welcome, 266 

A  House  and  Family  Lost, 268 

The  Lost  Found, 272 

A  Memorable  Visit, 275 

One  Sin  may  Destroy  the  Soul,    .         .         .         .         .         .  279 

A  Dying  Son,  ' 281 

Answer  to  Prayer  long  Deferred, 284 

A  Praying  Shoemaker, 287 

Old  Chairs  at  Interest, 289 

The  Christmas-tree, 292 

The  Little  Word  No, ,         .         .296 

Aunt  Sally's  Bible, 298 


8  CONTENTS. 

Our  Family-meeting, :  299 

A  Visit  to  my  Birtliplace, "      .  301 

Log-cabin  Memories, 304 

RELIGION  IN  SOCIETY, 

John  and  his  Cousin, 309 

A  Ride  and  a  Story, 313 

Debate  with  a  Romish  Bishop, 81G 

The  Confession  of  a  Deist, 322 

Could  not  Find  Christ, 327 

A  Praying  Woman  and  an  Ungodly  Young  Man,          .         .  331 

The  Thirty  Years'  Prayer, 332 

An  Angry  Controversy  Settled, 334 

Keep  Trying, 336 

The  Stone  Rolled  Away, 339 

Brands  Plucked  from  the  Fire, 341 

A  Happy  Mistake,        ........  345 

An  Aged  Sinner, 346 

Answer  to  United  Prayer, 348 

A  Deaf  Hearer, 349 

A  Sceptical  Captain, 351 

An  Inquiring  Jew, 353 

Mr.  Bingham  and  his  Neighbor, 355 

A  Difficulty  Overcome, 357 

A  Fool  Answered, 358 

Taking  the  Right  Ground, 359 

An  Important  Interview, 362 

Happy  Effects  of  Decision, 365 

Help  One  Another, 367 

The  Young  Lady's  First  Gift,  ......  369 

The  Old  Parasol, 370 

Useful  Women, 372 

Take  Care  of  that  Ox 375 

An  Exciting  Scene,      ' 377 

The  Peril  and  the  Vow, 381 

Claims  of  Our  Country, •        .  383 

RELIGION  IN  THE  CHURCH. 

An  Impressive  Sermon 386 

A  Useful  Sermon, 388 

The  Young  Pastor's  Temptation, 391 


CONTENTS.  9 

Near  the  Cross, 395 

The  Mission  of  a  Tear, 397 

"  Ye  Must  be  Bora  Again," 400 

"I  am  like  that  Leaf," 402 

"He  Was  Beside  Himself," 405 

The  Unwelcome  Snow-storm, 408 

A  Grateful  Convert, 412 

Squire  D and  the  Teacher, 414 

"Voyage  of  the  Duflf"— Striking  Providence,   .         .         .  420 

Noah's  Carpenters, 425 

My  First  Inquiry  Meeting, 430 

The  Unwelcome  Shower, 431 

The  Haymow, 434 

Influence  of  Two  Young  Ladies, 44:0 

Sketch  of  a  Revival, 443 

The  Elders'  Prayer-meeting, 446 

The  Wicked  Nine, 450 

Incentive  to  Christian  Labor, 452 

A  Delightful  Discovery, 455 

A  Pleasant  Surprise, 456 

A  Young  Missionary, 458 

Prayer  Answered  after  Death, 460 

Kindness  to  a- Pastor, 461 

A  Seamstress  and  a  poor  Minister, 464 

THE  NEGLECT  OF  RELIGION. 

Convictions  Stifled, 466 

The  Pleasure  Ride, 468 

The  Fatal  Ride, 469 

An  Eastern  Student, 471 

Grieving  the  Spirit  of  God, 473 

Religion  Deferred, 478 

.   The  Critical  Moment,        .         .         .         .         .         .         .  481 

"I  cannot  give  up  the  World  yet," 483 

A  Novel-reader, 485 

The  Frolic  in  Planting-time, 489 

Too  Late, 492 

A  Secret  Drunkard, 495 

Story  of  Real  Life, 498 

A  Neglected  Family, 503 

A  Father's  Prayer, 507 

1* 


10  CONTENTS. 

A  Sinner  of  Fourscore, 508 

"The  Last  Call," 509 

One  Thing  Wanting, 511 

The  Price  of  a  Soul, 514 

A  Member  of  a  Choir, 516 

A  Gay  Young  Man, 518 

The  Agony  of  Despair,         .         .         .        .         .         .         .  520 

A  Mournful  Retrospect, 523 

A  Cider-drinker, 524 

A  Young  Novel-reader, 527 

The  Last  Rebuke, 530 

Resisting  the  Holy  Spirit, 532 

Death  of  a  Miser, 534 

"I  was  Not  One  of  Them," 536 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 


COXYERSION. 


GEORGE   TAYLOR. 

In  the  years  1820-21,  Princeton,  New  Jersey,  was 
blessed  with  a  precious  revival  of  religion.  The  work 
was  still,  solemn,  and  powerful.  Among-  the  subjects 
of  it  were  some  who  became  useful  ministers  of  Christ. 
Others  besides  college  students  felt  its  power.  The 
distress  of  many  before  attaining  settled  peace  of 
mind  was  pungent,  and  often  continued  for  days. 
There  are  pangs  as  well  as  joys  in  the  new  birth. 
He  who  believes  the  contrary,  deceives  himself.  He 
who  teaches  the  contrary,  deceives  others.  The  de- 
gree and  duration  of  this  anxious  concern  are  deter- 
mined by  Him  who  doeth  all  things  well,  and  "giv- 
cth  not  account  of  any  of  his  matters."  He  knows 
what  best  suits  each  case. 

In  the  village  at  that  time  was  an  Englishman 
whose  name  was  George  Taylor.  He  was  poor,  fee- 
ble in  mind  and  body,  and  much  afflicted  with  rheu- 
matism. He  was  honest,  but  very  ignorant  of  divine 
things.     He  felt  the  powers  of  the  world  to  come. 


12  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

He  had  a  deep  sense  of  liis  sinfulness,  and  awful  ap- 
prehensions of  the  wrath  of  God.  At  first  his  case 
was  not  distinguished  from  that  of  many  others.  But 
while  others  obtained  relief,  and  were  begotten  to  a 
lively  hope,  he  sunk  into  deeper  distress.  His  state 
of  mind  excited  the  affectionate  interest  of  the  pious 
around  him.  He  manifested  a  solemn  attention  to 
every  tiling  that  showed  him  his  vileness.  His  sleep 
was  short  and  disturbed.  His  burden  of  guilt  was 
"a  vast  oppressive  load.'*'  His  appetite  almost  left 
him,  and  like  David,  he  "  forgat  to  eat."  "  His  bones 
waxed  old  through  his  roaring  all  the  day  long ;  for 
day  and  night  God's  hand  was  heavy  upon  him ;  his 
moisture  was  turned  into  the  drought  of  summer." 
He  often  feared  that  it  was  too  late  for  him  to  repent 
and  turn  to  God.  Yet  he  could  not  give  over  seek- 
ing. 

His  chief  difficulty  was  to  conceive  how  a  just  and 
holy  God  could  forgive  sin,  and  particularly  his  sins. 
He  saw  that  the  law  was  holy,  just,  and  good,  in  its 
precept  and  penalty.  But  he  could  not  see  how  such 
a  God,  with  such  a  law,  could  consistently  forgive 
such  a  sinner  as  he  was,  or  indeed  any  sinner.  Many 
conversed  with  him,  and  tried  to  show  him  how  God 
can  be  just,  and  yet  justify  the  ungodly  who  believe  in 
Christ.  He  also  heard  some  excellent  sermons  on  the 
work  of  Christ  as  a  Redeemer.  Still  all  was  dark. 
"How  should  man  be  just  with  God?"  was  the  per- 
plexing question.  Such  phrases  as  are  commonly  and 
very  properly  used  to  teach  the  nature  of  the  offices 
of  Clirist  in  behalf  of  sinners,  conveyed  no  idea  to 
him.  He  knew  not  the  language  of  Canaan.  The 
effect  of  his  distress  was  plainly  perceptible  in  his 


GEORGE  TAYLOR.  13 

face.  The  pious  deeply  commiserated  his  state,  and 
the  more  so  because  no  one  had  been  able  to  aflbrd 
him  any  relief.  At  last  one  explained  to  him  some 
of  the  sacrifices  under  the  law.  He  told  him  how  a 
lamb  was  brought  by  a  guilty  man,  and  laid  bound  on 
the  altar,  and  how  he  who  had  sinned  laid  his  hands 
upon  it,  confessing  his  sin,  and  how  its  blood  became 
the  blood  of  atonement,  and  how  he  was  thus  set  free 
from  the  guilt  of  breaking  the'  ceremonial  law.  His 
friend  then  said,  "  Christ  is  our  lamb,"  and,  suiting 
the  gestures  to  the  words,  repeated  these  lines  of 
Watts  : 

"  My  faith  would  lay  her  hand 

On  that  dear  head  of  thine, 

"While  like  a  i^enitent  I  stand 

And  there  confess  my  sin/' 

This  was  enough.  To  poor  George  it  was  life 
from  the  dead.  The  day-spring  had  visited  his  soul. 
He  said,  "  I  understand  it  now.  All  is  plain.  Christ 
is  the  lamb  to  take  away  our  sins.  Why  did  not  some 
one  tell  me  this  before?"  His  friend  said,  "We  have 
been  telling  you  the  same  thing  all  along,  but  in  dif- 
ferent words.  Did  we  not  tell  you  that  Christ  is  the 
way,  the  truth,  and  the  life  ;  and  that  no  man  cometh 
unto  the  Father  but  by  him?" 

George  Taylor  was  received  into  the  church  of 
Princeton,  August  10,  1821 ;  and  for  a  few  years,  till 
his  death,  led  a  devout,  consistent  life.  He  held  fast 
his  integrity,  and  is  now,  I  trust,  singing  the  song  of 
Moses  and  the  Lamb. 

This  short  narrative  is  not  intended  to  illustrate 
the  whole  of  that  great  change  which  must  pass  upon 
men  in  order  to  salvation.     Nor  is  it  given  as  a  type 


14  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

of  conversions.     God  deals  variously  with  men.    But 
it  may  teach  some  useful  lessons. 

1.  The  use  of  learning  is  to  make  things  plain. 

2.  There  is  milk  as  well  as  meat  in  the  word  of 
God,  milk  for  babes  and  meat  for  strong  men.  Let 
each  have  his  portion  in  due  season. 

3.  Whoever  would  come  to  Christ,  must  be  taught 
of  God.  Jesus  said,  "  No  man  can  come  unto  me, 
except  the  Father,  which  hath  sent  me,  draw  him." 
Reader,  if  God  is  drawing  you,  now  is  your  time.  If 
he  is  calling  you,  rise  and  follow  him.  He  will  not 
always  call.  Left  to  yourself,  you  will  never  find  the 
way  to  God.  You  must  be  led  by  the  Spirit.  Pray 
like  David,  ^'Take  not  thy  Holy  Spirit  from  me?" 

4.  God  works  when,  how,  and  by  what  means  he 
will.  He  offers  salvation  to  the  rich  and  the  poor, 
to  the  learned  and  the  rude.  But  how  often  arc  we 
reminded  of  those  words  of  Christ,  "  I  thank  thee,  O 
Father,  Lord  of  heaven  and  earth,  that  thou  hast  hid 
these  things  from  the  wise  and  prudent,  and  hast  re- 
vealed them  unto  babes :  even  so.  Father,  for  so  it 
seemed  good  in  thy  sight."  Let  us  thank  God  that 
he  reveals  these  things  to  babes,  to  the  weak-minded 
and  ignorant,  who  are  willing  to  learn.  "The  en- 
trance of  thy  word  giveth  light."  "  It  maketh  wise 
the  simple," 

5.  Let  none  despise  the  gospel  because  it  is  preach- 
ed to  the  poor,  nor  because  the  child  and  the  simple 
can  understand  enough  of  it  to  be  saved.  Pride  is  as 
damning  as  murder,  and  pride  of  intellect  is  as  ruin- 
ous as  pride  of  person,  family,  or  estate.  "  The  wick- 
ed,'through  the  pride  of  his  countenance,  will  not  seek 
after  God,"     "  God  resisteth  the  proud,  but  giveth 


GEORGE  TAYLOR.  15 

grace  to  the  Immblc.''  "  The  proud,  and  all  that  do 
Av^ickedly,  shall  be  burned  up."  You  must  humble 
yourself  as  a  little  child,  if  you  would  be  saved. 

6.  It  is  always  safe  to  tell  of  Christ  and  his  love, 
of  his  death  and  his  grace.  This  theme  has  awak- 
ened thousands,  and  brought  millions  to  salvation. 

7.  How  transforming  is  the  doctrine  of  the  cross, 
whenever  understood  and  received.  It  is  life  and  it 
is  spirit.  It  cheers,  it  purifies ;  it  puts  men  to  pray- 
ing ;  it  makes  them  zealous  of  good  works.  Such 
were  its  effects  on  George  Taylor,  as  many  saw ;  on 
the  Greenlanders,  as  the  Moravians  testify ;  on  the 
Indians  of  New  Jersey,  as  Brainerd  declares  ;  on  the 
people  of  Kilmany,  as  Chalmers  states.  The  cross 
at  once  subdues  and  wins.  ''  God  forbid  that  I  should 
glory,  save  in  the  cross  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.'"' 

8.  And  now,  dying  mortal,  you  too  are  a  sinner, 
and  you  too  need  a  Saviour  no  less  than  poor  Taylor. 
Unless  you  are  brought  to  strive  to  enter  in  at  the 
strait  gate,  you  will  never  be  saved.  Unless  you  are 
brought  to  loathe  and  abhor  yourself,  you  must  per- 
ish. You  must  find  the  Lamb  of  God,  by  whose 
blood  alone  your  guilt  can  be  washed  away.  "  He 
that  believeth  not,  shall  be  damned."  It  is  said  of  a 
poor  Greenlander,  that  the  first  time  he  heard  the 
love  and  death  of  Christ  explained,  he  said,  "  If  this 
Saviour  died  for  me,  he  shall  be  my  Saviour."  If  you 
will  rest  all  your  weight  upon  the  precious  blood  of 
Christ,  your  soul  shall  be  saved,  your  sins  shall  be 
blotted  out,  and  heaven  shall  be  yours. 

0  repent  and  believe;  for  why  will  you  diel 
Since  God  in  great  mercy  is  coming  so  nigh — 
Since  Jesus  invites  you,  the  Spirit  says,  Come, 
And  angels  are  waiting  to  welcome  you  home. 


16  SKETCHES  FROM   LIFE. 

If  you  die  in  your  sins,  many  will  rise  in  the  judg- 
ment and  condemn  you.  If  you  now  receive  Christ, 
you  will  be  safe  for  eternity.  Will  you  not  receive 
him?  Will  you  not  receive  him  noio  ?  The  Bible 
presents  no  alternative  but  now  or  never. 


AN  INFIDEL   BLACKSMITH. 

SCENE  I.     THE  PASTOR'S  STUDY. 

"Have  you  conversed  with  our  infidel  and  scoffing 

friend  Mr.  R ,  on  the  subject  of  religion,  to-day?-' 

said  the  venerable  pastor  to  Mr.  B ,   an  aged 

neighbor. 

"I  have,  and  at  great  length,  but  was  unable  to 
p^ake  the  least  impression  upon  his  mind.  You  know 
that  he  is  a  man  of  extensive  reading,  and  is  master 
of  all  the  ablest  infidel  writers.  He  regards  the  for- 
tress in  which  he  has  intrenched  himself  as  impregna- 
ble. You  know  his  ready  wit,  and  when  he  finds  ho 
cannot  talk  you  down,  he  will  laugh  you  down,  I 
can  say  no  more  to  him.  He  made  my  errand  the 
butt  of  ridicule  for  the  whole  company." 

"  Then  you  consider  his  case  hopeless  ?" 

"  I  do,  indeed.  I  believe  him  to  be  given  over  of 
God  to  believe  a  lie ;  and  I  expect  to  see  him  fill  up 
his  cup  of  iniquity  to  the  very  brim  without  repent- 
ance, and  die  a  hardened  and  self-ruined  man." 

"  Shall  nothing,  and  can  nothing  more  be  done  for 
him  ?"  And  the  pastor  arose,  and  walked  the  floor  of 
his  study,  under  the  influence  of  deep  agitation. 

It  was  now  a  solemn  time  in  the  congregation. 
The  preaching  of  the  pastor,  for  many  Sabbaths,  had 
been  full  of  earnestness  and  power.     The  church  was 


AN  INFIDEL  BLACKSMITH.  IT 

greatly  quickened.  The  spirit  of  prayer  prevailed. 
Many  were  inquiring  what  they  should  do  to  be  saved. 
Many,  too,  were  rejoicing  in  hope,  and  the  whole  com- 
munity were  moved,  as  with  one  silent,  but  mighty 
impulse. 

But  unmoved,  unconcerned,  stood  the  infidel,  amid 
the  many  changes  of  heart  and  mind  in  those  around 
him,  proud  of  liis  position,  and  confident  in  his  strength, 
and  able,  as  he  believed  himself  to  .be,  to  resist  every 
influence,  human  and  divine,  which  might  be  brought 
to  bear  upon  him.  The  pastor  had  often  approached 
him,  and  had  as  often  been  repulsed.  As  a  last  resort, 
he  had  requested  his  able  and  skilful  neighbor,  a  law- 
yer of  piety  and  talents,  to  visit  Mr.  R ,  and  en- 
deavor to  convince  him.  But  it  was  like  attempting 
to  reason  with  the  tempest,  or  soothe  the  volcano. 

SCENE  II.     THE  CHRISTIAX-S  CLOSET. 

Tliere  was  a  fire  blazing  upon  the  hearth  in  that 
little  room.  The  wind  was  howling  without ;  the 
snow  was  whirled  in  eddies,  and  was  swept  with  vio- 
lence against  the  casement.  It  was  a  cold  night  in 
January.  In  that  secret  and  retired  chamber,  where 
none  but  God  could  hear,  was  poured  out  a  voice  from 
a  burdened  soul.  The  aged  Christian  was  upon  his 
knees.  His  bosom  heaved  with  emotion.  His  soul 
was  in  agony.  That  voice  of  prayer  was  continued 
at  intervals  through  the  livelong  night.  In  that  room 
was  a  wrestling  like  that  of  Jacob.  There  was  a  pre- 
vailing like  that  of  Israel.  It  was  a  pleading  with 
the  Most  High  for  an  unwonted  display  of  his  power 
and  grace,  with  the  confidence  that  nothing  was  too 
hard  for  the  Almighty.     It  was  a  night  of  prayer,  of 


18  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

entreat)',  of  importunity.  It  was  prayer  as  a  man 
would  pray  for  the  life  of  a  friend,  wlio  was  on  the 
eve  of  execution. 

SCENE  HI.     THE  PRAYER-MEETING. 

The  meeting  was  still  and  solemn  as  eternity. 
The  house  was  crowded  to  its  utmost  capacity.  It 
was  a  cheerful  evening,  and  the  astrals  threw  their 
mellow  light  over  the  dense  assembly.  Now  the  song 
of  praise  resounds  from  all  parts  of  the  room,  and 
there  is  a  heart  in  the  utterance  which  belongs  not  to 
other  times.  Now  the  voice  of  one  and  another 
ascends  in  prayer,  and  such  prayer  is  seldom  heard 
except  in  the  time  of  genuine  revivals  of  religion. 
The  silent  tear  steals  down  many  a  cheek.  The  almost 
inaudible  sigh  escapes  from  many  a  bosom.  An  in- 
tense interest  rests  on  every  countenance,  and  the 
voice  of  prayer  is  the  voice  of  all.  One  after  anoth- 
er arises,  and  tells  the  listening  company  what  "  the 

Lord  has  done  for  his  soul."    There  stands  Mr.  R , 

once  the  infidel — now  the  humble  believer  in  Jesus. 
He  is  clothed  in  a  new  spirit.  His  face  sliines  as  did 
the  face  of  Moses  when  he  had  seen  God  face  to  face. 
He  is  a  new  creature  in  Christ  Jesus. 

"I  stand,"'  said  Mr.  R ,  ''  to  tell  you  the  story 

of  my  conversion."  His  lips  trembled  slightly  as  he 
spoke,  and  his  bosom  heaved  with  suppressed  emotion. 
"I  am  as  a  brand  plucked  out  of  the  burning.  The 
change  in  me  is  an  astonishment  to  myself;  and  all 
brought  about  by  the  grace  of  God,  and  that  vnan- 
swerabk  argument.  It  was  a  cold  morning  in  Janu- 
ary, and  I  had  just  begun  my  labor  at  the  anvil  in  my 
shop,  when  I  looked  out  and  saw  Mr.  B approach- 


AN  INFIDEL  BLACKSMITH. 


19 


ing.  He  dismounted  quickly,  and  entered.  As  he 
drew  near,  I  saw  he  was  agitated.  His  look  was  full 
of  earnestness.  His  eyes  were  bedimmed  with  tears. 
He  took  me  by  the  hand.  His  breast  heaved  with 
emotion,  and  with  indescribable  tenderness  he  said, 
'  Mr.  R ,  I  am  greatly  concerned  for  your  salva- 
tion— greatly  concerned  for  your  salvation,'  and  he 
burst  into  tears.  He  stood  with  my  hand  grasped  in 
his.  He  struggled  to  regain  self-possession.  He  often 
essayed  to  speak,  but  not  a  word  could  ho  utter ;  and 
finding  that  he  could  say  no  more,  he  turned,  went 
out  of  the  shop,  got  on  his  horse,  and  rode  slowly 
away. 


:^0  SKETCHES   FROM  LIFE. 

" '  Greatly  concerned  for  my  salvation,'  said  I, 
audibly,  and  I  stood  and  forgot  to  bring  my  hammer 
dawn.  There  I  stood  with  it  upraised — 'greatly  con- 
cerned for  my  salvation.''  Here  is  a  new  argument  for 
the  truth  of  religion,  which  I  have  never  heard  before, 
and  which  I  know  not  how  to  answer.  Had  the  aged 
man  reasoned  with  me.  I  could  have  confounded  him  ; 
but  here  is  no  threadbare  argument  for  the  truth  of 
religion.  Religion  must  be  true,  or  this  man  would 
not  feel  as  he  does.  '  Greatly  concerned  for  my  sal- 
vation ;'  it  rung  through  my  ears  like  a  thunder-clap 
in  a  clear  sky.  Greatly  concerned  I  ought  to  be  for 
my  own  salvation,  said  I — what  shall  I  do? 

"I  went  to  my  house.  My  poor  pious  wife,  wliom 
I  had  always  ridiculed  for  her  religion,  exclaimed, 

'AVhy,  Mr.-  R ,  what  is  the  matter  with  you?' 

'  Matter  enough,'  said  I,  filled  with  agony  and  over- 
whelmed with  a  sense  of  sin.      '  Old  Mr.  B •  has 

rode  two  miles  this  cold  morning  to  tell  me  he  was 
greatly  concerned  for  my  salvation.  What  shall  I 
do  ;  what  shall  I  do  ?' 

" '  I  do  not  know  what  you  can  do,'  said  my  aston- 
ished wife;  'I  do  not  know  what  better  you  can  do 
than  to  get  on  your  horse,  and  go  and  see  him.  He 
can  give  you  better  counsel  than  I,  and  tell  you  what 
you  must  do  to  be  saved.' 

"  I  mounted  my  horse,  and  pursued  after  him.  I 
found  him  alone  in  that  same  little  room,  where  he 
had  spent  the  night  in  prayer  for  my  poor  soul,  where 
he  had  shed  many  tears  over  such  a  reprobate  as  I, 
and  had  besought  God  to  have  mercy  upon  me. 

"  '  I  am  come,'  said  I  to  him,  '  to  tell  you  that  I  am 
greatly  concerned  for  my  own  salvation.' 


AN   INFIDEL  BLACKSMITH.  2i 

"'Praised  be  God/  said  the  aged  man.  'It  is  a 
faithful  saying,  and  worthy  of  all  acceptation,  that 
Jesus  Christ  came  into  the  world  to  save  sinners,  even 
the  chief,'  and  he  began  at  that  same  scripture,  and 
preached  to  me  Jesus.  On  that  same  floor  we  knelt, 
and  together  we  prayed — and  we  did  not  separate  that 
day  till  God  spoke  peace  to  my  soul. 

"  I  have  often  been  requested  to  look  at  the  evi- 
dence of  the  truth  of  religion,  but,  blessed  be  God,  I 
liave  evidence  for  its  truth  /^^re,'''  laying  his  hand  upon 
his  heart,  "which  nothing  can  gainsay  or  resist.  I 
have  often  been  led  to  look  at  this  and  that  argu- 
ment for  the  truth  of  Christianity ;  but  I  could  over- 
turn, and,  as  I  thought,  completely  demolish  and  anni- 
hilate them  all.  But  I  stand  here  to-night,  thankful 
to  acknowledge  that  God  sent  an  argument  to  my  con- 
science and  heart,  which  could  not  be  answered  or 
resisted,  when  a  weeping  Christian  came  to  tell  me 
how  greatly  concerned  he  was  for  my  salvation.  God 
taught  him  that  argumejit,  when  he  spent  the  night 
before  him  in  prayer  for  my  soul.  Xow  I  can  truly 
say,  I  am  a  happy  man.  My  peace  flows  like  a  river. 
My  consistent,  uncomplaining  wife,  who  so  long  bore 
with  my  impiety  and  unbelief,  now  rejoices  with  me, 
that,  by  the  grace  of  God,  I  am  what  I  am — that 
whereas  I  was  blind,  now  I  see.  And  here  permit 
me  to  say,  if  you  would  wish  to  reach  the  heart  of 
such  a  poor  sinner  as  I,  you  must  get  your  qualifica- 
tions where  he  did,  in  your  closet  and  on  your  knees. 
So  it  shall  be  with  me.  I  will  endeavor  to  reach  the 
hearts  of  my  infidel  friends  through  the  closet  and  by 
prayer." 

He  sat  down  overcome  with  emotion,   amid  the 


22  SKETCHES   FROM   LIFE. 

tears  and  the  suppressed  sobs  of  the  assembly.  All 
were  touched  ;  for  all  knew  what  he  once  was,  all  saw 
what  he  had  now  become. 

''Time,  on  his  noiseless  wing,  pursued  his  rapid 
flight."  Years  passed  .by,  and  the  faithful  old  man 
was  numbered  with  the  dead.  But  the  converted  in- 
fidel still  lived,  an  earnest,  honest,  faithful,  humble 
Christian. 


A  GENTLEMAN   IN   BOSTON. 

A  few  years  ago,  a  gentleman  in  Boston  having  a 
leisure  hour,  sauntered  into  tiie  court-room,  where  an 
interesting  trial  was  in  progress.  Directly  over  the 
head  of  the  judge  there  was  suspended  a  large  clock. 
The  broad  face  of  the  brass  pendulum,  nearly  a  foot 
in  diameter,  vibrated  to  and  fro  in  a  solemn  measured 
movement  which  arrested  his  eye.  For  a  moment  he 
looked  listlessly  upon  the  precision  of  its  oscillations, 
and  the  idea  gently  occurred  to  his  mind  of  the  lapse 
of  time — its  ceaseless,  rapid  flow,  marked  off  so  sol- 
emnly by  the  tickings  of  the  clock.  The  train  of 
thought  thus  suggested,  gradually  and  silently  ab- 
sorbed his  attention.  His  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the 
pendulum.  He  was  entirely  insensible  to  the  scene 
passing  around  him,  as  he  thought  of  the  events  oc- 
curring over  the  world  in  the  interval  marked  by  the 
vibrations :  now  some  are  sinking  into  a  watery 
grave — now  the  assassin  plunges  the  dagger — now 
comes  the  fiend-like  shock  of  armies — now  the  cry  of 
remorse  ascends  from  the  pillow  of  the  dying  sinner — 
what  multitudes  die  during  each  vibration!  How 
rapidly  the  vibrations  cut  off  the  moments  allotted  to 


A  RATIONAL  SCEPTIC.  23 

mc.     How  soou  will  the  clock  strike  my  last  hour? 
Where  shall  I  then  be?     In  heaven,  or  in  hell? 

Thus  he  stood,  lost  in  reverie,  while  that  noise- 
less pendulum  preached  to  his  soul  in  tones  such  as  he 
had  never  heard  before.  He  left  the  court-room,  and 
mingled  with  the  thoughtless  crowds  in  Washington- 
street,  but  the  barbed  arrow  of  religious  conviction 
had  pierced  his  heart,  and  he  could  not  extract  it. 
He  sought  his  closet.  He  fell  upon  his  knees,  and  in 
anguish  offered  the  prayer  which,  sincerely  offered, 
never  is  refused,  ''  0  God,  be  merciful  to  me  a  sin- 
ner." He  soon  found  the  peace  of  pardon,  and  went 
on  his  new  way  heavenward,  rejoicing.  "The  wind 
bloweth  where  it  listeth,  and  thou  hcarcst  the  sound 
thereof,  but  canst  not  tell  whence  it  cometh,  and 
whither  it  goeth  ;  so  is  every  one  that  is  born  of  the 
Spirit." 


A   RATIONAL   SCEPTIC. 

Mr.  H ,  an  eminent  lawyer  of  Western  New 

York,  who  died  a  few  years  since  in  the  triumphs  of 
Christian  faith,  when  a  student  in  the  office  of  Judge 

H was  inclined  to  sceptical  views.     His  moral 

character  was  unsullied,  but  in  his  ambitious  aspira- 
tions he  cherished  that  dislike  to  the  gospel  which  is 
the  hidden  source  of  nearly  all  infidelity.  The  elo- 
quent ministrations  of  the  sanctuary  failed  to  remove 
tlie  deepening  gloom  of  unbelief. 

One  day,  while  absorbed  in  the  study  of  law,  his 
eye  rested  upon  a  copy  of  the  Bible  lying  on  the  table 
before  him.  He  paused,  and  the  thought  came  like 
the  voice  of  an  invisible  spectator  to  his  soul,  What  if 


24  SKETCtlES  FROM  LIFE. 

that  book  is  the  word  of  God  ?  Then  conscience  in- 
quired if  lie  had,  with  earnestness  and  honesty  becom- 
ing the  momentous  question,  examined  its  claims  to 
his  faith.  He  was  condemned  at  the  bar  of  that 
inward  judge  and  monitor,  and  resolved  to  begin  a 
careful  perusal  of  the  sacred  volume.  The  duty  and 
propriety  of  prayer  to  the  "  Father  of  lights  "  for  illu- 
mination were  impressed  on  his  mind.  For  the  first 
time  in  his  life,  he  solemnly  entered  on  the  reading  of 
the  Scriptures,  and  closet  communion  with  God.  In 
a  few  days,  he  was  an  anxious  sinner,  and  he  soon 
rejoiced  in  the  love  of  Christ.  He  made  a  full  con- 
secration of  himself  to  the  Redeemer,  in  a  written 
covenant  copied  from  Doddridge,  and  found  among 
his  papers  after  his  death ;  and  for  more  than  twenty 
years  was  an  active,  growing  Christian.  In  the  court- 
room and  social  circle,  his  consistent  piety  revealed 
itself,  calm  and  clear  beneath  the  excitements  and 
pleasures  of  life. 

Truly,  "  atheism  is  a  crime,  rather  than  a  mere 
intellectual  error  ;"  and  so  is  all  fatal  unbelief.  The 
heart  is  wrong,  and  the  head  refuses  to  receive  or  seek 
the  light  of  the  cross.  This  view  of  the  sceptical  and 
scornful  gives  fearful  import  to  the  prophet's  question, 
"  What  wilt  thou  say,  when  he  shall  punish  thee  ?" 

p.  c.  II. 


A   SCOFFER. 


In  the  village  of  W — —  a  missionary  meeting  was 
announced,  at  which  the  lamented  Rev.  Dr.  Armstrong 
was  to  be  present.  Attracted  by  the  lighted  church 
and  the  unusual  crowd,  young  Robert  L entered, 


A  SCOFFER.  25 

to  see  what  was  going  on,  and  to  find  new  themes  for 
his  powers  of  ridicule  and  mimicry.  He  took  a  seat 
near  the  door,  that  he  might  not  be  recognized,  and 
that  when  weary,  as  he  anticipated  he  shoidd  soon  be, 
he  might  pass  out  unnoticed. 

The  interest  of  the  meeting  was  increased  by  ad- 
dresses from  a  returned  foreign  missionary  and  a  col- 
porteur from  one  of  our  western  states.  These  ser- 
vants of  God  portrayed  their  fields  of  labor,  their 
love  for  their  work  amid  the  trials  and  difficulties 
they  had  encountered,  the  encouragement  they  had  in 
laboring  for  such  a  Master,  and  the  hope  that  they 
might  live  and  die  with  the  harness  on. 

Eobert  became  deeply  interested  in  their  narra- 
tions. He  felt  that  they  were  sincere,  however  de- 
luded in  their  belief;  and  conscience  whispered  that 
"it  was  no  delusion;  that  they  had  an  aim  in  life 
worthy  of  an  immortal  being ;  that  the  gospel  which 
they  hazarded  all  to  bear  to  their  dying  fellow-men, 
was  true  ;  that  they  had  no  mercenary  motives  to  lead 
them  to  a  life  of  toil  and  hardships,  unrequited  by 
earthly  rewards."  And  while  this  truth  was  rankling 
in  his  heart  like  a  barbed  arrow,  the  faithful  colpor- 
teur drew  his  portrait  to  the  life,  as  in  very  simple 
language,  he  portrayed  a  class  of  young  men  whom  he 
often  encountered,  that  threw  off  the  restraints  of 
early  religious  education  when  beyond  the  influence 
of  home. 

Robert  recognized  the  likeness,  and. felt  it  was  his 
own.  The  first  emotion  was  that  of  resentment,  that 
he  should  be  tlius  held  up  to  public  view  by  an  igno- 
rant stranger  ;  for  he  had  when  a  lad  left  the  parental 
fireside,  where  a  pious  mother  had  instructed,  and  a 


26       •  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

praying  father  had  counselled  him,  to  mingle  with  a 
class  of  men  of  loose  habits,  and  still  looser  princi- 
ples, till  he  had  imbibed  their  infidelity,  and  renounc- 
ed his  belief  in  God's  word.  But  he  remained  till 
the  meeting  was  closed  at  a  late  hour,  and  tlien  went 
from  the  sanctuary  of  God  a  convicted  man. 

His  conviction  did  not  leave  him  till  he  was 
brought  to  the  foot  of  the  cross.  The  life  which  God 
had  mercifully  spared  in  the  midst  of  his  rebellion,  he 
consecrated  to  his  Saviour,  and  he  lived  to  adorn  his 
profession.  Those  devoted  servants  of  Christ  knew 
not,  and  probably  never  will  know  until  they  both  are 
gathered  with  their  sheaves  into  the  garner  above, 
that  their  simple  narrations  that  evening,  and  the 
testimony  they  bore,  that  their  Master's  "  yoke  was 
easy,'"'  was  instrumental  in  doing  a  work  that  caused 
joy  among  the  angels  in  heaven.  G. 


A  MERCHANT  IN   BOSTON. 

It  was  immediately  after  the  great  fire  of  1835  in 
New  York,  that  I  was  at  Boston,  in  company  with  a 
Christian  friend.  We  put  up  at  the  Tremont  hotel. 
On  the  succeeding  Sabbath  we  were  walking  in  the 
parlor  conversing  on  the  aflQictivo  providence  with 
which  our  city  had  been  visited  ;  in  the  course  of 
which,  reference  was  made  to  the  power  and  sover- 
eignty of  God.  There  was  but  one  other  person  in 
the  room,  and  he  was  seated  silently  near  the  fire. 
As  the  above  remark  was  uttered,  he  stepped  up  to 
us,  and  inquired  whether  he  had  the  happiness  to  ad- 
dress those  who  loved  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.     With 


A  MERCHANT  IN  BOSTON.  27 

some  surprise  at  the  sudden  and  uncommon  inquiry, 
we  replied  with  pleasure  that  we  trusted  it  was  so. 
He  then  apologized,  with  much  courtesy  and  in  a  gen- 
tlemanly manner,  for  the  intrusion  upon  our  conversa- 
tion ;  remarking  that  he  was  a  stranger  in  Boston, 
where  he  had  come  a  short  time  previous,  having  busi- 
ness with  eminent  merchants  there.  He  further  stated 
that  he  had,  as  he  hoped,  been  led  to  taste  the  won- 
ders of  redeeming  love,  and  to  rejoice  in  that  liberty 
wherewith  the  Lord  makes  his  people  free. 

We  had  become  by  this  time  greatly  interested  in 
his  remarks,  and  encouraged  him  to  give  us  a  history 
of  the  hope  that  was  in  him,  to  which  he  readily 
assented ;  and  the  following  is  a  brief  account  of  the 
dealings  of  the  Holy  Spirit  with  his  priceless  soul. 

He  was  a  native  of  Great  Britain,  and  a  son  of  a 
pious  mother.  Early  in  life  he  had  been  instructed  in 
the  way  of  godliness ;  but  he  had  disregarded  the 
admonitions  and  teachings  of  parental  love,  and  given 
himself  up  to  utter  worldliness.  He  engaged  in  mer- 
cantile business  in  a  foreign  country,  in  the  midst  of 
an  irreligious  population,  who  were  also  sunken  in 
ihe  follies  and  superstitions  of  Romanism  ;  and  to  all 
appearance,  he  entirely  forgot  the  Lord  God  of  his 
fathers. 

During  the  year  in  which  we  met  with  him,  he 
was  providentially  led  to  the  city  of  New  Orleans, 
where  he  had  large  transactions  in  business.  Here 
the  Holy  Spirit  led  him,  while  walking  the  streets 
one  Sabbath  morning,  to  enter  a  church,  in  which  the 

Rev.  Mr.  P was  then  preaching.     His  attention 

was  so  led  to  a  consideration  of  the  holiness  of  the 
Lord's  day,  and  the  sin  of  desecrating  it,  that  imme- 


28  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

diately  after  service,  with  a  frankness  and  prompti- 
tude which  appeared  to  be  characteristic  of  the  man, 
he  went  to  the  counting-room  of  a  French  merchant 
with  whom  he  had  engaged  to  dine  that  day  at  his 
country-seat,  and  told  him  that  he  must  be  excused 
from  dining  with  him.  Upon  being  asked  the  reason, 
he  unhesitatingly  replied,  that  at  church  that  day  he 
had  heard  what  had  convinced  him  that  it  was  wrong 
so  to  do,  and  although  the  invitation  was  again  urged 
with  great  importunity,  he  steadily  refused.  The 
transaction,  however,  did  not  appear  to  make  any 
lasting  or  saving  impression  on.  his  mind. 

Shortly  after  this  he  went  to  New  York,  and  from 
thence  to  Boston.  While  there,  walking  one  evening- 
past  where  a  number  of  persons  were  at  the  moment 
leaving  a  prayer-meeting,  a  lady  handed  to  him  a 
tract,  and  politely  requested  him  to  peruse  it.  He 
took  it  to  his  room,  and  read  it.  The  title  was, 
''Quench  not  the  Spirit^  Its  perusal  made  him  solemn, 
awakened  in  him  emotions  to  which  he  had  hitherto 
been  a  stranger,  and  led  him  to  commune  thus  with 

himself.     "  R ,  how  foolish  and  inconsistent  has 

been  your  conduct.  You  have  provided  yourself  with 
whatever  is  conducive  to  your  comfort  and  conven- 
ience while  travelling.  You  have  around  you  all  the 
appliances  needful  for  the  body.  But  what  of  the 
immortal  soul?  What  have  you  done  for  its  happi- 
ness and  welfare?  Nothing;  nothing!  You  have 
not  even  a  Bible  in  your  trunk,  to  direct  your  soul  to 
its  Author  and  Preserver.''  Without  delay  he  went  to 
the  nearest  bookstore  and  purchased  a  copy  of  the 
word  of  God,  and  at  once  set  about  its  perusal.  The 
•ruths,  the  warnings,  the  invitations  there  found,  only 


A  MERCHANT.  IN  BOSTON.  29 

fastened  the  arrow  of  conviction  more  deeply  in  ]iis 
wounded  heart,  and  the  efifect  was  not  lessened  by  a 
reperusal  of  the  tract.  The  Spirit  of  the  Lord  had 
found  hira  out,  and  was  making  known  to  him  his  sin- 
fulness, the  holiness  of  God's  broken  law,  and  his  own 
inability  to  cleanse  away  the  pollution  within. 

This  state  of  mind  continued  for  some  days,  and 
although  compelled  daily  to  mingle  in  business  with 
those  who  could  not  sympathize  with  him,  yet  in  the 
retirement  of  his  room,  and  in  deep  communing  with 
himself,  he  continued  to  hav^  before  him  "a  certain 
fearful  looking  for  of  judgment." 

On  the  morning  of  the  next,  or  the  succeeding 
Sabbath,  in  deep  agony  of  spirit,  he  wandered  from 
his  hotel  without  any  settled  purpose.  He  came  in 
front  of  a  church  into  which  many  persons  were  flock- 
ing, and  he  entered  with  them.    The  Rev.  Mr.  S , 

of  the  Methodist  church,  addressed  the  audience  from 
tlie  words,  "  Quench  not  the  Spirit,"  and  powerfully 
unfolded  the  sin  and  danger  of  so  doing.  The  words 
pierced  the  very  soul  of  the  stranger,  and  taught  him 
more  and  more  the  total  depravity  of  his  heart,  and 
his  need  of  an  all-sufficient  Saviour  to  satisfy  thai 
holy  law  which  he  had  fearfully  broken.  He  returned 
to  his  room,  and  again  engaged  in  earnest  prayer,  in 
reading  the  Scriptures,  and  in  self-examination.  I 
think  he  stated  that  it  was  on  the  succeeding  Thurs- 
day evening  when,  having  obtained  no  relief,  he  took 
the  word  of  God,  laid  the  sacred  volume  open  upon  a 
chair,  and  upon  it  the  tract,  and  kneeling  down,  pray- 
ed for  divine  mercy  with  an  earnestness  which  could 
not  take  a  denial.  Thus  engaged,  he  continued  upon 
his  knees  until  nearly  the  dawn  of  day,  when  it  pleased 


30  SKETCHES   FROM   LIFE, 

Him,  with  whom  is  boundless  compassion,  to  speak 
peace  to  his  soul,  and  enable  him  to  rejoice  in  Jesus 
Christ  our  Lord. 

"And  now,"  said  he,  "my  soul  is  filled  with  joy 
and  peace,  and  I  bless  God  that  an  unknown  friend 
handed  me  that  blessed  tract,  by  which  I  have  been 
led  to  Christ,  and  which  I  shall  keep  with  me  wliile 
life  lasts ;" .  saying  this,  he  opened  his  A'cst,  and  we 
perceived  that  he  had  laid  it  next  his  heart.  He  re- 
peatedly apologized  for  thus  intruding  upon  our  atten- 
tion, but  stated  again,  that  being  a  stranger  in  the  city, 
except  to  a  few  who  were  of  tJnitarian  sentiments,  he 
had  had  no  one  with  whom  he  could  hold  converse  on 
what  was  so  dear  to  his  heart,  until  meeting  provi- 
dentially with  us. 

It  was  a  fitting  sequel  to  this  interesting  event, 
upon  visiting  the  tract  depository  in  Xew  York,  a  few 
weeks  after,  to  purchase  some  copies  of  the  above 
tract,  that  we  heard  the  respected  depositary  observe 
that  his  stock  of  this  tract  had  been  lately  greatly 
reduced,  as  one  gentleman  had  purchased  no  less  than 
six  hundred  copies  for  distribution  in  the  West  Indies : 
and  upon  inquiry  we  found  that  he  was  the  warm- 
hearted brother  whose  story  is  here  narrated. 

G.  T. 


A  PROFANE   STUDENT. 

At  a  time  of  general  religious  solemnity  some 
years  since,  in ,  the  students  of  the  old  and  ven- 
erable college  were  blessed  with  one  of  those  visita- 
tions of  the  Holy  Spirit  which  are  truly  seasons  of 
refreshing  in   Zion.  -    Among  them  was  a  youth  of 


A  PROFANE  STUDENT.  31 

fine  talents  and  polislicd  manners,  eminently  popular 
among  the  votaries  of  the  world  ;  but  with  such  pleas- 
ing qualities  he  united  a  sad  disregard  of  the  teach- 
ings of  the  word  of  God,  and  the  oath  and  biting 
sarcasm  levelled  against  the  consistent  followers  of 
Jesus  often  fell  unrestrained  from  his  lips.  His  mode 
of  life,  his  sources  of  amusement,  and  especially  his 
associates,  were  such  as  apparently  to  preclude  the 
possibility  of  a  change,  and  to  render  him  least  likely 
of  all  that  numerous  concourse  of  students  to  feel  the 
power  of  religious  truth. 

Among  the  personal  efforts  made  at  that  time  by 
the  professed  disciples  of  Christ,  it  was  not  the  will 

of  Ilim  who  toucheth  the  hearts  of  men  that  L • 

should  be  passed  by.  A  sincere  and  deeply  pious 
member  of  his  own  class  called  at  his  room  one  day, 
and  finding  him  alone,  entered  into  a  faithful  and  ear- 
nest  conversation  with  him  on  the  value  of  his  soul, 
and  the  necessity  of  immediate  preparation  for  the 
eternal  state.      The  interview  was  concluded  with 

prayer,  and  the  kind  visitor  departed.     L was 

deeply  enraged  at  this  "  unwarrantable  intrusion,''  as 
he  deemed  it ;  and  in  the  bitterness  of  his  malignity, 
upon  entering  the  room  of  a  fellow-student  and  nar- 
rating the  occurrence,  he  deliberately  cursed  the  friend 
who  had  sought  to  point  him  to  the  Lamb  of  God. 

But  the  arrow  of  conviction  had  accompanied  the 
word  of  truth,  and  in  the  silent  chambers  of  his  heart 
the  upbraidings  of  conscience  were  not  easily  to  be 
appeased ;  and  having  to  prepare  a  rhetorical  exer- 

cise  on  the  following  day,  the  mind  of  L was 

directed,  providentially  it  would  seem,  to  that  short- 
est verse  in  tlie  Bible,  which  is,  nevertheless,  so  cx' 


32  SKETCHSS  FROM  LIFE. 

pressive  of  the  divine  sympathy  for  our  fallen  mortal 
race — "  Jesus  wept."  His  ignorance  of  the  word  of 
God  forced  him  to  apply  to  a  pious  student  to  find  the 
verse ;  but  his  mind  had  scarcely  began  to  dwell  upon 
its  touching  theme  and  the  sacred  scenes  of  the  Re- 
deemer's mission,  when  he  burst  into  a  flood  of  tears. 
The  arrow  of  conviction  had  pierced  his  heart.  The 
recollection  of  his  contempt  of  God  evinced  in  his 
treatment  of  the  kind  friend  who  sought  his  highest 
good,  filled  him  with  remorse ;  while  a  deep  sense  of 
the  wondrous  love  of  Him  who  not  only  wept  over 
our  sin  and  sorrow,  but  died  to  secure  lis  mansions  of 
immortal  joy,  pervaded  his  soul.  The  enormity  of 
his  transgressions  rose  in  terrible  array  before  him, 
and  the  strong-minded  seeker  of  pleasure,  the  despiser 
of  truth  and  righteousness,  was  bowed  in  sorrow  for 
sin. 

The  stated  prayer-meeting  of  the  few  who  loved 
God  in  that  institution  came  round,  and  one,  hitherto 
a  stranger  to  its  very  being,  was  seen  wending  his 
way  towards  the  place  "  where  prayer  was  wont  to 
be  made ;"  and  when  the  words  of  supplication  and 
the  notes  of  praise  had  ascended  on  high,  he  who  had 
been  so  prominent  in  ungodliness  arose  and  declared 
his  purpose  of  leading  a  new  and  holy  life.  None 
who  were  present  at  that  prayer-meeting  will  ever 
forget  the  scene.  Louder  than  before  swelled  the 
song  of  praise  and  thanksgiving  for  the  "lost"  that 
was  "found,"  for  the  "dead  in  trespasses  and  sins," 
whom  the  all-pitying  Jesus  had  called  to  life. 

And  may  not  some  who  read  this  paper  realize 
for  the  first  time,  that  "  Jesus  wept "  for  man  ?  Let 
them,  like  L ,  receive  in  the  inmost  recesses  of 


AN  INFIDEL  STUDENT.  33 

their  hearts  this  blessed  truth,  and  joy  shall  fill  the 
angelic  hosts  at  the  spectacle  of  another  sinner  turn- 
ing unto  God. 

And,  Christian  disciple,  who  art  mildly,  yet  per- 
severingly  bearing  the  all-important  message  to  those 
who  know  not  its  value,  care  not  though  reproof  and 
contumely  fall  to  thy  lot.  Even  when  thou  art  de- 
spairing, the  providence  of  God  may  be  impressing 
some  stubborn  heart.  He  will  not  suifer  thy  faithful 
labors  to  fail  of  a  Glorious  reward.  l.  v.  r. 


AN   INFIDEL   STUDENT. 

In  the  year  18 — ,  a  young  man  from  the  South  en- 
tered a  New  England  college.  He  was  the  child  of 
infidel  parents.  The  influences  of  home  had  all  been 
adverse  to  the  religion  of  Christ.  He  went  to  col- 
lege quite  young,  and  was  a  frivolous,  inconsiderate 
youth.  He  had  no  religious  or  moral  principle  to 
guide  him,  and  to  seek  his  own  present  pleasure  was 
his  only  object  in  life.  He  was  quick  and  passionate 
in  his  disposition,  easily  taking  offence,  and  not  hesi- 
tating to  resort  to  a  challenge  to  mortal  combat,  as 
the  proper  method  of  settling  the  difficulties  of  a  ball- 
room. 

In  becoming  a  member  of  a  puritanic  New  Eng- 
land college,  he  found  himself  in  a  new  world.  He 
attended  prayers  regularly,  because  it  was  required 
by  the  laws  of  college  ;  but  when  he  stood  up  in  tliat 
consecrated  chapel,  and  heard  the  venerable  president 
address  an  invisible  Being,  he  said  to  himself,  "  What 
folly!  There  is  no  God  to  listen  to  this  prayer." 
He  said  in  his  heart,  "There  is  no  God." 
2* 


34  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

As  one  looked  over  that  assembly,  no  one  among 
those  hundreds  of  young  men  seemed  in  so  hopeless  a 
case  as  that  young  infidel.  But  God  had  said  of  him, 
"  He  is  a  chosen  vessel  unto  me,  to  bear  my  name  be- 
fore the  Gentiles,  and  kings,  and  children  of  Israel." 
He  was  affected  by  the  Christian  influences  about  him. 
The  Spirit  of  God  touched  and  softened  his  heart. 
He  began  to  ask  himself,  "Am  I  mistaken?  Is  it 
possible  that  there  is  a  God  ?"  The  president  of  the 
college  took  much  interest  in  him,  and  gave  him,  in 
private,  such  instruction  as  lie  thought  would  benefit 
him. 

One  evening  the  president  talked  with  him  very 
earnestly  and  affectionately.      He  talked  long  and 

faithfully,  and  when left  him,  he  said  to  him, 

"  When  you  return  to  your  room,  you  will  find  it 
occupied  by  gay  young  men  ;  and  if  you  go  in  and 
join  them  in  their  amusements,  all  these  impressions 
will  be  effaced  from  your  mind  :  but  do  not  go  there ; 
go  away  alone,  and  pray  earnestly  that  God  will  en- 
lighten and  teach  you."  He  left  the  president  and 
went  to  his  room;  but  did  he  enter  it?  No.  He 
heard  the  loud  laugh  of  his  companions,  and  he  remem- 
bered the  words  of  the  president.  He  went  away 
alone,  and  perhaps  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  he 
communed  with  his  Maker. 

He  told  me  that  he  distinctly  remembered  the  mo- 
ment when  the  truth  of  the  existence  of  a  God  was 
first  impressed  upon  his  mind.  He  was  in  the  chapel 
at  college-prayers,  and  when  the  president  rose  to 
pray,  his  old  disbelief  passed  away,  and  he  felt  that 
there  was  a  God.  He  could  truly  say,  "Lord,  I  be- 
lieve; help  thou  mine  unbelief."     He  could  liardly 


AN  INFIDEL  STUDENT.  35 

restrain  his  emotions  during  the  service,  and  as  soon 
as  the  prayer  was  closed,  he  seized  the  arm  of  a  pious 
young  man,  saying,  "  Do  you  believe  in  a  God  ?"  He 
wondered  that,  if  the  Christian  young  men  about  him 
did  believe,  they  did  not  manifest  the  excitement  and 
deep  feeling  which  he  experienced  at  that,  moment. 
A  light  had  suddenly  shined  into  his  soul  from  heaven, 
and  like  Paul,  he  trembled  and  was  astonished. 

During  the  last  two  years  of  his  college  life,  he 
associated  but  little  with  his  former  companions.  Ho 
roomed  alone,  and  spent  a  portion  of  each  day  in  the 
study  of  the  Bible  and  prayer.  He  was  greatly 
changed  in  his  external  character. 

When  he  left  college,  the  Holy  Spirit  accompanied 
him.  He  placed  himself  under  the  influence  of  a 
Christian  minister  and  Christian  friends,  and  he  made 
his  Bible  his  constant  study.  He  became  a  pupil,  and 
afterwards  a  teacher  in  the  Sabbath-school.  At  length 
ho  ventured  to  hope  that  he  had  been  brought  out  of 
nature's  darkness  into  God's  marvellous  light.  He 
entered  a  theological  seminary,  and  having  completed 
his  course  of  study,  he  returned  to  the  scene  of  his 
college  life,  and  performed  divine  service  upon  the 
Sabbath. 

He  commenced  the  exercises  of  the  day  by  read- 
ing that  beautiful  hymn  by  John  Newton,  commenc- 
ing, 

"  ]Mercy,  0  thou  Son  of  David  ! 
Thus  blind  Bartimeus  prayed — '' 

And  among  the  children  of  God  who  had  known  him 
while  in  college,  not  a  tearless  eye,  I  am  sure,  could 
have  been  found  in  that  house.  His  text  was,  "  Ex- 
cept a  man  be  born  again,  he  cannot  see  the  kingdom 


B6  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

of  God ;"  and  truly  the  hearts  of  those  listeners 
"  burned  within  them,''  as  they  heard  the  evidence 
which  he  so  strikingly  gave,  that  he  had  become  a 
new  creature  in  Christ  Jesus. 

I  never  felt  more  humbled  and  reproved  than  by 

this  living  epistle.      When left  college,  I  might 

have  been  his  teacher.  I  was  more  familiar  than  he 
with  the  words  and  the  doctrines  of  the  Bible  ;  but 
he  returned  as  my  teacher,  and  I  found,  with  surprise, 
what  a  change  those  few  years  had  wrought  in  him ; 
how  diligent  he  had  been,  how  much  he  had  learned, 
how  familiar  he  had  become  with  the  word  of  God, 
and  with  all  its  teachings. 

And  now  this  young  man  is  a  missionary  of  the 

cross,  the  Rev.  E.  J.  P ,  in  a  dark  and  benighted 

part  of  the  world. 


"DO   LET   ME   ALONE." 

Mr.  T.  S resided  near  the  western  shore  of 

Lake  Champlain.  As  a  husband  and  father  he  was 
kind  and  affectionate,  but  the  whole  subject  of  relig- 
ion he  treated  with  neglect.  His  wife,  two  daughters, 
and  a  son  were  devoted  Christians.  He  never  op- 
posed them  in  any  of  tlieir  religious  views  or  duties, 
but  seemed  ready  to  assist  them  whenever  they  wished 
to  attend  a  religious  meeting,  either  on  the  Sabbath 
or  during  the  week ;  and  yet,  for  more  than  twenty 
years,  he  did  iiot  attend  a  religious  meeting  of  any 
description. 

Being  called  to  the  pastoral  care  of  the  congrega* 
tion,  in  1828,  I  could  get  no  opportunity,  for  more 


"DO  LET  ME  ALONE."  3t 

than  a  year,  to  converse  with  him  on  the  interests  of 
his  soul ;  nor  would  lie  allow  any  of  his  family  to  con- 
verse with  him  on  the  subject.  He  would  say  to  them, 
"  If  you  wish  peace  in  the  family,  if  you  wish  unmo- 
lestedly  to  enjoy  the  privileges  of  your  religion,  you 
must  be  quiet  towards  me,  and  let  me  and  my  belief 
alone."  I  thought  him  a  troubled  man,  by  no  means 
at  ease  in  his  spirit ;  but  whenever  I  entered  his  house, 
he  was  sure  to  leave  before  I  could  converse  with  him. 

At  one  of  my  Wednesday  evening  meetings,  some 
one  of  the  family  informed  me  that  he  was  to  start 
the  next  morning  for  a  short  journey.  I  had  before 
arranged  to  go  that  morning  into  his  neighborhood 
for  pastoral  visitation ;  and  as  I  came  in  sight  of  his 
house,  which  was  about  forty  rods  from  the  road, 
knowing  that  he  had  not  seen  me,  I  dropped  at  his 
gate  the  tract,  "  Danger  of  Delay,"  and  passed  on,  still 
unobserved,  when  I  felt  inclined  to  pause  and  see  how 
he  would  treat  the  little  message  I  had  laid  in  his 
way.  When  he  came  to  the  gate,  he  took  it  up,  looked 
about  him,  and  seating  himself  upon  a  rock,  com- 
menced reading.  I  soon  observed  him  wipe  his  eyes  ; 
and  when  he  had  read  it  through,  he  held  his  hand- 
kerchief to  his  face  for  some  time,  and  then  arose, 
returned  to  his  house,  and  relinquished  his  journey. 

The  scene  took  such  hold  on  my  feelings  that,  after 
making  a  few  visits,  I  returned  and  called  at  his  house. 
On  inquiring  fbr  him,  I  learned  from  his  weeping  wife 
that  the  tract  had  so  alarmed  him,  that  he  dared  not 
go  on  his  journey  ;  and  that  he  had  fastened  himself 
in  his  stable,  and  refused  admittance  to  any  one.  I 
went  to  the  stable ;  but  in  agony,  and  with  an  empha- 
sis which  I  can  never  forget,  he  begged  me,  if  I  did 


38  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

not  wish  to  increase  Lis  misery  in  hell,  not  to  talk  to 
him  on  religion,  or  even  pray  for  him  ;  "  for,"  said  he, 
"  I  am  sure  of  damnation ;  for  me,  who  have  so  long 
rebelled,  and  who  have  so  wilfully  slighted  such  infi- 
nite mercy,  there  can  be  no  hope."  I  tried  to  con- 
vince him  that  God  was  willing  to  be  gracious  even 
to  him,  however  great  were  his  sins.  But  his  constant 
and  agonizing  cry  was,  "  Do  let  me  alone  ;  there  is  no 
hope  for  me."  I  left  him,  and  returned  to  the  family, 
whom  I  found  all  engaged  in  prayer  for  their  distress- 
ed husband  and  father.  After  uniting  with  them  in  a 
season  of  prayer,  I  returned  home :  calling  on  one  of 
my  deacons,  and  requesting  his  family  to  spend  the 
evening  in  joining  their  prayers  with"  those  of  the 
family  of  Mr.  S and  mine,  for  that  poor  awak- 
ened man. 

On  Friday  afternoon  I  called  again,  and  found 
him  still  in  his  stable,  and  in  as.  deep  agony  as  when 
I  left  him  the  day  before.  He  still  begged  me  not  to 
talk  with  him,  or  even  to  pray  for  him,  lest  it  increase 
his  condemnation  in  the  coming  workl.  After  pray- 
ing with  the  family,  I  again  returned  home,  but  never 
felt  a  heavier  burden  on  my  heart.  On  Saturday 
morning  I  again  called,  and  still  found  him  in  his 
stable,  having  utterly  refused  to  converse  with  his 
family,  or  to  receive  any  food. 

I  went  to  the  stable,  and  said  to  him,  "Mr.  S . 

are  you  determined  to  increase  the  long  catalogue  of 

your  sins  by  self-murder?"     He  replied,  "Mr.  B , 

how  can  you  think  that  of  me?  No,  no,  I  will  not 
add  that  sin  to  the  dark  catalogue."  "But,"  said  I, 
"you  are  doing  it  as  surely  as  tliough  you  were  to  cut 
your  throat ;  for  you  can  no  more  live  without  food. 


"DO  LET  HE  ALONE."  39 

than  you  can  without  blood.  The  best  thing  that  you 
can  do  is  to  come  out  of  your  concealment,  and  act 
like  a  rational  man." 

He  finally  came  out,  and  after  taking  some  refresh- 
ment, seemed  more  calm.  I  conversed  with  him  ;  and 
after  praying-  with  him,  I  told  him  that  it  would  be 
better  to  attend  meeting  the  following  day,  than  to 
stay  away,  even  were  he  finally  lost;  for  then  the  sin 
of  turning  away  from  the  sanctuary  and  the  means  of 
grace  would  not  rest  uix)n  his  soul.  He  promised 
me  that  if  able  he  would  attend  ;  and  he  did.  And 
as  he  entered  our  large  school-house,  every  Christian 
seemed  to  drop  the  head  as  though  in  silent  prayer. 

On  that  morning  I  preached  from  the  words, 
"  Come  unto  me.  all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy- 
laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest."  Near  the  close  I 
proposed  the  inquiry,  "  Who  of  you  will  come  to 
Christ?  He  is  ready,  he  waits,  he  calls,  yes,  he  urges 
you,  poor  striking,  hurdincd,  and  dying  sinner,  to  come 
to  him  and  find  rest,  and  peace,  and  joy,  and  eternal 
salvation.  Will  you  come;  and  come  now?"  Per- 
sons who  sat  by  him  afterwards  informed  me  that 
they  heard  him  distinctly  say,  "  Yes,  I  will  come,  and 
i  will  come  now.'' 

He  soon  after  made  a  public  profession  of  relig- 
ion ;  and  in  relating  his  experience,  he  remarked  that 
when  he  felt  the  resolve  in  his  heart  to  yield  to  Christ, 
the  removal  of  his  burden  was  so  sudden,  and  his  joy 
Avas  so  great,  that  he  could  hardly  refrain  from  shout- 
ing, "  Glory  to  God,"  for  so  wonderful  a  display  of 
the  riches  of  grace.  A  deeper  sense  of  guilt,  or  a 
more  exalted  view  of  the  power  and  grace  of  God, 
than  he  expressed,  I  never  witnessed.     His  family 


40  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

altar  burned  morning  and  evening,  lie  was  pimctual  at 
the  prayer-meeting,  and  was  one  of  our  most  consist- 
ent, active,  energetic,  and  devoted  Christians.  Thus 
he  continued  to  live  for  many  years,  when  he  died  in 
the  triumphs  of  faith,  and  went  to  join  the  church  tri- 
umphant in  the  song  of  redeeming  grace  and  dying 
love.  0.  B. 


A  DARING  OPPOSER  IN  PENNSYLVANIA. 

Never  had  such  a  revival  of  religion  been  witnessed 

in  all  tliat  region  of  country,  as  was  enjoyed  in 

valley,  Eastern  Pennsylvania,  in  the  years  1832  and 
'33.  ^  It  extended  many  miles  in  various  directions, 
and  hundreds  were  brought  under  its  blessed  influ- 
ence, and  made  savingly  acquainted  witli  the  Lord 
Jesus.  The  now  large  and  flourishing  churches  in 
the  boroughs  of  N and  W C were  plant- 
ed as  a  part  of  that  gracious  work. 

The  enemy  of  all  righteousness  was  not  inactive 
while  these  inroads  were  made  upon  his  kingdom. 
He  aroused  the  enmity  of  the  human  heart,  and  much 
and  bitter  opposition  was  arrayed  against  the  power 
and  the  progress  of  the  gospel.  Bands  of  men,  young 
and  old,  were  formed  to  strengthen  each  other  in  re- 
sisting the  truth;  military  parades,  parties  of  pleas- 
ure, balls,  and  various  other  means  of  dissipation 
were  arranged  to  occupy  the  attention  of  the  young, 
as  the  ranks  of  the  enemy  were  thinned  by  the  tri- 
umphs of  the  cross. 

Foremost  in  reckless  daring,  among  the  number  of 
those  who  arrayed  themselves  against  the  work  of  the 


A  DARING   OPPOSER.  41 

Lord,  was  F ,  a  young  man  whose  social  position 

gave  him  an  extensive  influence. 

One  after  anotlicr  of  his  most  intimate  friends  and 
companions  had  forsaken  him  and  his  associates,  and 
had  united  with  the  church.  This  irritated  liim,  and 
led  him  to  indulge  in  a  scries  of  petty  persecutions; 
urged  on  and  supported  by  older  men,  he  sought  by 
every  means  to  cast  contempt  upon  the  cause  of  Christ, 
and  especially  upon  his  ministers.  It  was  no  unusual 
tiling  for  him  to  visit  the  house  of  God  on  the  Sab- 
bath, hear  with  undivided  attention  the  preached 
word,  and  after  his  return  home,  gather  his  associates 
together,  and  in  mockery  repeat  the  sermon  and  en- 
gage in  prayer. 

He  was  known  many  miles  around  for  his  opposi- 
tion to  tlie  truth  ;  and  there  was  an  almost  universal 
desire  among  Christians,  that  God  might  convert  him, 
as  he  did  the  persecuting  Saul,  and  make  him  a  herald 
of  salvation.  We  have  good  reasons  for  believing 
that  much  prayer  was  offered  to  God  on  his  behalf, 
and  that  very  many  who  had  never  seen  him  united 
in  these  supplications  for  the  divine  mercy. 

He  for  whom  they  supplicated  was  not  without 
his  "  convictions  for  sin,"  although  none  suspected  it. 
More  than  once,  after  having  boldly  declaimed  against 
religion  and  religious  people,  did"  he  retire  to  a  soli- 
tary place,  and  there,  trembling  with  fear,  beseech 
God  to  pardon  his  great  wickedness  ;  and  yet  he 
would  return  again  to  the  commission  of  the  same 
sins.  Thus  months  passed  on,  and  F— —  was  still 
"  breathing  out  threatenings ' '  in  "  great  swelling 
words;"  and  still  the  people  of  God  were  earnestly 
pleading  that  God  would  "  stop  him  in  his  mad  ca- 


42  SKETCHES  FROM   LIFE. 

rcer,"  and  make  him  a  "  tropliy  of  his  victorious 
grace." 

Upon  one  occasion  he  was  induced  to  accompany 
some  young  friends  to  a  small  school-house,  situated  in 

a  retired  spot  among  the  G hills.      In  this  ob- 

scure  and  lowly  spot  the  power  of  God  had  been  sig- 
nally displayed.  Scores  of  the  inhabitants  had  been 
converted,  and  that  humble  school-house  had  been 
made  "  the  house  of  God  and  the  gate  of  heaven  "  to 
many  a  weary  and  heavy-laden  sinner.  At  this  time 
the  work  was  moving  forward  with  power,  the  house 
was  crowded  with  eager  hearers  to  its  utmost  capac- 
ity, every  window  was  full,  and  rows  of  men  were 
standing  on  the  writing  benches  arranged  around  the 
walls  of  the  house.  F was  one  of  the  latter  num- 
ber ;  the  sermon  had  closed,  and  no  impression  had 
been  made  on  his  mind.  Before  offering  the  closing- 
prayer,  the  minister  stated  to  tlie  congregation  that 
on  entering  his  study  the  day  previous,  he  had  found 
upon  his  table  a  note  signed,  "A  female  friend,"  re- 
questing the  special  prayers  of  the  church  on  behalf 
of  a  certain  young  nmn,  whose  case  she  described. 

Every  one  knew  who  was  meant,  and  so  did  F , 

and  the  announcement  was  an  arrow  from  the  quiver 
of  the  Almighty  to  his  hardened  heart.  Chills  crept 
over  his  frame,  his  knees  trembled  and  smote  together. 
During  the  time  that  prayer  was  offered  for  him,  he 
wished  he  were  out  of  the  house,  but  he  had  no  power 
to  move ;  he  was  overwhelmed  with  shame  and  con- 
fusion of  face ;  his  sins  rose  before  him  like  a  mighty 
cloud,  and  his  guilt  in  the  sight  of  God  weighed 
heavily  on  his  spirit. 

At  the  close  of  the  meetiiio-  lie  returned  home  in 


A  DARING  OPPOSER.  43 

an  ag'oiiy  of  soul ;  what  to  do  he  knew  not ;  he  sighed 
and  groaned  in  the  deepest  anguish ;  he  vowed  and 
prayed;  he  would  have  wept,  but  could  not;  he  re- 
solved to  seek  the  salvation  of  liis  soul,  or  perish  in 
the  attempt ;  and  many  sorrowful  days  and  gloomy 
nights  passed  before  he  was  brought  to  submit  himselt 
to  Christ  as  a  poor  lost  sinner,  and  to  accept  salvation 
as  the  gift  of  God,  "without  money  and  without  price." 
It  was  with  great  difficulty  that  he  could  realize  that 
there  was  mercy  for  one  who  had  sinned  against  so 
much  light  and  knowledge,  and  had  so  long  resisted 
the  ''  riches  of  grace,"  and  despised  the  "  goodness  of 
Godo" 

But  at  length  with  the  apostle  he  could  say,  "It  is 
a  faithful  saying,  and  worthy  of  all  acceptation,  that 
Christ  Jesus  came  into  the  world  to  save  sinners ;  of 
whom  I  am  chief.''  Light  broke  by  degrees  into  liis 
darkened  mind  ;  the  clouds  were  dispersed,  and  every 
thing  within  and  around  him  was  rejoicing  ;  the  rigor 
of  midwinter  was  relaxed,  all  nature  smiled,  "  the  trees 
of  the  field  clapped  their  hands,"  and  "December  was 
as  pleasant  as  May."  Great  was  the  rejoicing  when 
it  was  reported  of  him,  "Behold,  he  prayeth,"  and 
many  a  thanksgiving  ascended  to  God  for  what  his 
grace  had  wrought. 

In  the  course  of  time  he  entered  the  Christian 
ministry,  and  for  many  years  he  was  found  laboring 
to  build  up  the  cause  he  once  sought  to  pull  down, 
and  hundreds  through  his  ministry  liave  been  brought 
to  the  knowledge  of  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus.     For 

several  years  F made  earnest  inquiry  to  learn 

who  the  "female  friend"  was  that  had  presented  him 
as  the  subject  of  special  prayer ;  but  all  his  efforts 


44  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

were  unavailing.  In  eternity  lie  will  doubtless  meet 
her,  and  unite  with  her  and  with  all  the  redeemed  in 
praising  God  for  making  him  a  "trophy  of  grace"  in 
answer  to  special  prayer. 

Reader,  united  prayer  "  moves  the  hand  that  moves 
the  world  ;"  ask,  and  ye  shall  receive.      '       Davies. 


A  DEAF   MUTE. 

During  a  revival  of  religion  in  one  of  our  New 
England  villages,  a  son  of  the  clergyman  returned 
home  for  a  brief  visit.  The  lad  was  a  deaf  mute,  and 
had  spent  his  first  term  in  the  asylum  just  then  com- 
mencing its  history.  His  parents  having  no  know- 
ledge of  the  language  of  signs,  and  the  boy  being  an 
imperfect  writer,  it  was  almost  impossible  to  inter- 
change with  him  any  but  the  most  familiar  ideas. 
He  therefore  heard  nothing  of  the  revival. 

But  before  he  had  been  many  days  at  home  he  be- 
gan to  manifest  signs  of  anxiety,  and  at  length  wrote 
with  much  labor  upon  his  slate,  "  Father,  what  mmt  I 
do  to  be  saved  V  His  father  wrote  in  reply,  "  My  son, 
you  must  repent  of  sin,  and  believe  in  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ."  "  How  must  I  do  this?"  asked  the  boy  again, 
upon  the  slate.  The  father  explained  to  him  as  well 
as  he  could,  but  the  poor  untaught  boy  could  not  un- 
derstand. He  became  more  than  ever  distressed  ;  he 
would  leave  the  house  in  the  morning  for  some  retired 
place,  and  be  seen  no  more  until  the  father  went  in 
search  of  him.  One  evening  at  sunset,  the  boy  was 
found  upon  the  top  of  the  hay,  under  the  roof  of  the 
barn,  on  his  knees,  his  hands  uplifted,  and  praying  to 
God  in  the  signs  of  the  mutes.     The  distress  of  tho 


AN  INDIAN'S  GIFT   TO  CHRIST.  45 

parents  became  intense.  They  sent  for  one  of  the 
teachers  of  the  asylum,  and  then  for  another,  but  it 
seemed  tliat  the  boy  could  not  be  guided  to  the  Sav- 
iour of  sinners.  There  were  enough  to  care  for  his 
soul,  but  there  were  none  to  instruct  him. 

Days  passed — days  of  parental  fear  and  agony. 
One  afternoon  the  father  was  on  his  way  to  fulfil  an 
engagement  in  a  neighboring  town,  and  as  he  drove 
leisurely  over  the  hills  the  poor  inquiring  and  hope- 
less son  was  continually  in  his  thoughts.  In  the  midst 
of  his  supplications  his  heart  became  calm,  and  the 
long  distracted  spirit  was  serene  in  the  one  thought 
that  God  is  able  to  do  his  own  work.  The  speechless 
boy  at  length  began  to  tell  how  he  loved  his  Saviour, 
and  stated  that  he  first  found  peace  on  the  very  after- 
noon when  the  spirit  of  his  agonized  father  on  the 
mountains  was  calmed  and  supported  by  the  thought, 
that  what  God  had  promised  he  was  able  to  perform. 

The  converted  mute  became  an  instructor  of  others, 
and  every  Sabbath-day  found  him  in  one  of  our  large 
cities,  with  a  gathered  congregation  of  fellow-mutes, 
breaking  to  them  the  bread  of  life,  and  guiding  their 
attentive  souls  to  that  God  who  has  power  to  do  his 
own  work.  c. 


AN   INDIAN'S   GIFT   TO   CHRIST. 

In  a  portion  of  the  southern  territory  from  which 
the  red  man  has  now  been  driven,  I  once  attended  a 
large  protracted  meeting  held  in  the  wild  forest.  The 
theme  on  which  the  preacher  dwelt,  and  which  he 
illustrated  with  surpassing  beauty  and  grandeur,  was 
"  Christ  and  him  crucified."     He  spoke  of  the  good 


46  SKETCHES  l^^ROM  LIFE. 

Shepherd  who  came  into  the  world  to  seek  and  to 
save  the  lost.  He  told  how  this  Saviour  met  the  rude 
buffetings  of  the  heartless  soldiers.  He  drew  a  pic- 
ture of  Gethsemane,  and  the  unLefriended  Stranger 
who  wept  there.  He  pointed  to  him  as  he  hung  bleed- 
ing upon  the  cross. 

The  congregation  wept.  Soon  there  was  a  slight 
movement  in  the  assembly,  and  a  tall  son  of  the  forest, 
with  tears  on  his  red  cheeks,  approached  the  pulpit, 
and  said,  "  Did  Jesus  die  for  me — die  for  poor  Indi- 
an? Me  have  no  lands  to  give  to  Jesus,  the  white 
man  take  them  away ;  mc  give  h'im  my  dog,  and  my 
rifle."  The  minister  told  him  Jesus  could  not  accept 
those  gifts.  "Me  give  Jesus  my  dog,  my  rifle,  and 
my  blanket ;  poor  Indian,  he  got  no  more  to  give — he 
give  Jesus  all."  The  minister  replied  that  Christ 
could  not  accept  them.  The  poor,  ignorant,  but  gen- 
erous child  of  the  forest  bent  his  head  in  sorrow  and 
meditated.  Pie  raised  his  noble  brow  once  more,  and 
fixed  his  eye  on  the  preacher,  while  he  sobbed  out, 
"  Here  is  poor  Indian,  will  JesKS  have  Mm  ?"  A  thrill 
of  unutterable  joy  ran  through  the  souls  of  minister 
and  people  as  this  fierce  son  of  the  wilderness  now 
sat,  in  his  right  mind,  at  the  feet  of  Jesus.  The  Spirit 
had  done  his  work,  and  he  who  had  been  so  poor, 
received  the  earnest  of  an  inheritance  which  will  not 
fade  when  the  diadems  of  earth  shall  have  mouldered 
for  ever.  J.  s.  g. 


THE   BIRD   IX   THE   CHURCH. 

The  town  of  E is  embowered  in  trees.     Its 

ancient  and  spacious  cluirch,  with  its  chiming  clock 


THE  BIRD  IN  THE  CHURCH.  47 

and  towering-  steeple  of  beautiful  proportions,  althoug'h 
ill  the  centre  of  the  town,  is  yet  in  the  centre  of  forest- 
trees,  which  nearly  conceal  it  from  view  ;  and  what  is 
more,  it  is  the  centre  and  home  of  the  affections  of  a 
people  whose  ancestors  for  nearly  two  hundred  years 
have  there  worshipped  God  in  spirit  and  in  truth. 

And  that  ancient  church  is  associated  with  many 
and  wonderful  displays  of  sovereign  grace.  It  has 
been  the  birthplace  of  souls,  the  house  of  God,  and 
the  gate  of  heaven  to  multitudes.  Under  its  ample 
roof  thousands  have  consecrated  themselves  to  God, 
and  amid  the  ordinances  there  dispensed,  have  rip- 
ened for  glory. 

In  the  year  18 — ,  the  people  of  E were  favored 

with  perhaps  the  most  signal  work  of  grace  they  ever 
enjoyed.  The  whole  community  was  moved  to  its 
deep  foundations,  and  persons  of  all  ages  and  classes 
Avere  in  the  pursuit  of  salvation  as  the  great  end  of 
their  being.  Many,  the  blessed  fruits  of  that  revival, 
continue  until  the  present  day. 

On  a  Sabbath  of  that  year  of  unusual  brilliancy, 
in  the  late  spring,  that  church  was  crowded  with  mul- 
titudes anxious  about  their  souls,  and  hanging  upon 
the  lips  of  their  beloved  pastor,  who  with  earnestness 
and  tears  was  expounding  to  them  the  way  of  recon- 
ciliation with  God.  Every  thing  in  the  external 
world — the  balmy  and  reviving  breezes — the  new  and 
beautiful  dress  which  fields  and  forests  were  putting 
on — the  trees  budding  or  in  blossom — the  blossoms 
setting  in  fruit,  were  in  sympathy  with  the  feelings 
of  this  worshipping  people,  and  were  but  emblems  of 
the  spiritual  transformations  which  were  in  progress 
among:  them. 


48 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 


On  this  Sabbath  tlie  doors  of  tlic  church  were 
open,  and  the  windows  were  all  closed.  During  the 
progress  of  the  service  a  bird  entered  by  the  door 
and  flew  up  to  the  vaulted  roof,  and  alarmed  by  the 
voices  which  it  heard,  gave  every  evidence  of  anxiety 
to  make  its  escape.  There  sat  in  one  of  the  pews  a 
female  under  deep  conviction  for  sin,  and  who  for 
months  had  been  seeking  without  finding  peace  for 
her  soul.  Her  eye  soon  lit  upon  the  fluttering  bird, 
and  followed  hira  from  window  to  window,  in  his  vain 


efi"orts  to  escape.  It  sought  an  exit  at  every  window, 
and  almost  at  every  pane  of  glass  ;  and  as  it  fluttered 
from  one  window  to  another,  this  female  would  say  in 


THE  BIRD  IN  THE  CHURCH.  49 

her  heart,  "  0  foolish  bird,  why  strive  to  get  out  there  ; 
is  not  the  door  wide  open  ?"  It  would  now  rise  to  the 
ceiling — now  renew  its  vain  attempts  at  the  windows ; 
this  female  repeating  to  herself,  "  0  foolish  bird,  why 
strive  to  get  out  there ;  is  not  the  door  wide  open  ?"' 
And  when  its  wings  were  weary,  and  when  all  hope 
of  escape  seemed  to  be  abandoned,  and  as  if  unable 
to  sustain  itself  longer,  it  lowered  itself  into  the  body 
of  the  church,  caught  a  view  of  the  door,  and  was  out 
in  a  moment,  singing  a  song  of  triumph  over  its  re- 
lease, amid  the  branches  of  the  trees. 

When  the  bird  was  gone,  the  thoughts  of  this 
female  reverted  to  her  own  state  and  doings.  The 
voice  of  the  preacher  was  unheard  amid  the  conflicts 
of  her  own  thoughts.  "  I  have  been  acting,"  said 
she,  "like  that  foolish  bird.  I  have  been  seeking 
peace  in  ways  in  which  it  is  not  to  be  found,  and  to 
go  out  from  the  bondage  of  sin  through  doors  that 
are  closed  against  me.  Christ  is  the  door ;  through 
him  there  is  escape  from  the  dominion  of  sin.  I  liave 
acted  like  that  foolish  bird  long  enough.  What  the 
door  was  to  it,  Christ  is  to  me.  As  it  escaped  through 
the  door,  so  may  I  through  Christ."  And  she  found 
peace  in  believing.  And  almost  as  soon  as  the  bird 
commenced  its  melody  in  the  trees,  rejoicing  over  its 
escape,  she  commenced  making  melody  in  her  heart 
unto  the  Lord. 

Years  passed  away,  and  her  peace  flowed  like  a 
river  whose  gentle  stream  is  never  excited  into  a 
ruffle.  Subsequently  she  had  her  periods  of  occa- 
sional depression,  but  without  ever  forgetting  that 
Christ  is  the  door.  Threescore  years  and  ten  passed 
away,  and  amid  the  infirmities  of  age  Christ  was  yet 


50  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

precious  as  the  door.  She  has  put  off  her  earthly  tab- 
ernacle ;  and  from  tlie  day  that  she  saw  that  bird  in 
the  church,  until  the  day  that  she  passed  in,  through 
Christ  the  door,  to  the  spirits  of  the  just  made  per- 
fect, she  never  gave  ground  for  a  reasonable  doubt 
that  Christ  was  in  her  the  hope  of  glory. 

How  infinitely  diversified  are  the  ways  and  instru- 
mentalities by  which  sinners  are  led  to  be  reconciled 
to  God.  "The  wind  bloweth  wliero  it  listelh,  and 
tliou  hearest  the  sound  thereof,  but  canst  not  tell 
whence  it  cometh,  or  whither  it  goeth ;  so  is  every 
one  that  is  born  of  the  Spirit." 

And  how  truthful  the  application  of  the  folly  of 
that  bird,  by  that  female,  to  her  own  case.  And  is 
not  its  folly  the  folly  of  every  sinner  ?  The  first  right 
feeling  of  a  sinner  returning  from  the  error  of  his 
ways,  is  a  sense  of  his  deep  sinfulness  in  the  sight  of 
God.  If  this  feeling  is  never  felt,  then,  in  ordinary 
cases,  there  is  no  return  to  God— we  must  die  aliens 
to  God,  and  continue  outcasts  from  the  light  of  the 
universe  for  ever.  But  when  the  Spirit  convinces  and 
convicts  of  sin,  how  often  is  deliverance  sought  from 
it  in  the  ways  that  the  bird  vainly  sought  to  escape 
from  the  church.  The  sinner  flees  to  every  thing  that 
gives  hope  of  deliverance  but  to  the  right  thing.  The 
Bible  is  read — prayer  is  made — sin  is  abstained  from — 
the  worship  of  God  is  frequented — the  advice  of  Chris- 
tian people  is  sought ;  but  there  is  no  escape  from  the 
dominion  of  sin — none  from  a  sense  of  guilt,  nor  from 
the  fear  which  it  inspires.  All  these  are  but  as  the 
windows  to  tlie  bird,  which  gave  it  hope  that  it  might 
escape  through  them  because  they  admitted  the  light. 
When  it  failed  at  one,  it  flew  to  another ;  each  win- 


THE  SEA-CAPTAIN.  51 

dow  in  its  turn  excited  hope,  and  in  every  case  the 
hope  excited  was  dashed  by  the  trial  to  escape.  When 
all  is  done,  the  weight  of  sin  yet  hangs  upon  the  soul. 
And  the  reason  is,  there  is  yet  no  recourse  to  the  rem- 
edy for  sin,  to  the  door  of  escape  from  its  power  and 
guilt.  Christ  is  that  remedy.  Christ  is  that  door. 
And  so  prone  are  men  to  do  something  to  save  them- 
selves, that  until  all  they  can  do  is  tried  in  vain,  they 
will  not  look  unto  "  the  Lamb  of  God,  that  taketh 
away  the  sin  of  the  world." 

The  great  central  truths  of  Christianity,  so  far  as 
men  are  concerned,  are  these  :  we  are  sinners — Christ 
Jesus  has  died  to  atone  to  law  and  justice  for  the  sins 
of  sinners,  and  whosoever  believes  on  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  shall  be  saved.  Reader,  do  you  hope  you  are 
a  Christian  ?  If  so,  you  know  all  this  by  experience. 
Never  cease  telling  these  truths  to  all  men  as  you  have 
opportunity.  Are  you  a  sinner  convicted  of  your  sin, 
and  seeking  deliverance  from  it?  Then  imitate  not 
the  bird  which  sought  an  exit  through  the  closed  win- 
dows, to  the  forgetfulness  of  the  open  door.  Waste 
not  your  time,  and  spend  not  your  strength  for  naught 
in  seeking  relief  at  sources  that  never  can  yield  it. 
Go  at  once  to  Christ ;  ponder  this  one  truth,  until  it 
is  written  in  letters  of  living  light  upon  your  soul, 
'  He  that  believetli  on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  shall  be 
saved."  Faith  in  Jesus  Christ  will  save  you  ;  nothing 
else  can.  N.  m. 


THE   SEA-CAPTAIN. 

Captain  T was  a  noble  specimen  of  the  Amer- 
ican sailor.     Independent  in  thouglit  and  action,  well 


52  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

skilled  ill  his  profession,  combining  gentleness  in 
manner  with  firmness  in  action,  a  better  officer  never 
walked  the  quarter-deck.  Frank  and  open-hearted, 
his  social  qualities  gave  him  a  ready  welcome  into 
every  family  in  the  neighborhood  where  he  resided ; 
and  his  influence  over  a  large  circle  of  friends  was 
almost  unlimited.  Possessing  an  inquiring  mind,  he 
read  on  all  subjects,  and  was  particularly  fond  of  argu- 
ment and  debate. 

In  the  winter  of  the  year  18 — ;   Captain  T 

was  providentially  at  home,  employing  his  leisure 
time  in  the  study  of  elocution,  preparatory  to  the 
public  debates  before  a  literary  society  of  which  he 
was  a  prominent  member. 

It  was  a  season  of  peculiar  interest  in  the  church. 
After  a  long  period  of  coldness  and  apathy,  God  vis- 
ited them  with  the  rich  outpourings  of  his  Spirit,  and 
the  church  was  humbled  and  revived;  the  word  of 
God,  preached  in  great  plainness  and  simplicity,  was 
"in  demonstration  of  the  Spirit,  and  of  power."  Sin- 
ners 0)1  the  right  and  on  the  left  were,  with  sobs  and 
tears,  asking,  "  What  must  we  do  to  be  saved?"  The 
wife  of  the  captain  was  among  the  first  of  those  who 
passed  into  the  kingdom  of  God,  and  were  enabled  to 
rejoice  in  a  "good  hope  through  grace."  Hitherto 
she  had  come  alone  to  church,  but  now  it  was  per- 
ceived that  about  the  hour  for  preaching  the  husband 
would  enter  the  house  of  the  Lord,  quietly  find  a  scat 
in  a  corner  of  the  room,  and  give  undivided  attention 
to  the  messenger  of  God.  None  knew  the  exercises 
of  his  mind,  and  we  were  afraid  to  approach  him 
upon  the  subject  of  personal  piety,  knowing  his  fond- 
ness for  debate,  and  fearins:  it  might  lead  to  an  un- 


THE  SEA-CAPTAIN.  53 

profitable  discussion.  Great  anxiety  was  felt  by  the 
awakened  church  on  his  behalf,  and  many  fervent 
prayers  were  offered  to  God  for  his  conversion.  As 
the  revival  widened  and  deepened,  the  captain  attend- 
ed the  morning  service  as  well  as  the  evening ;  and 
the  hearts  of  Christians  were  cheered  with  the  hope 
that  God  was  truly  drawing  him  "with  cords  of  a 
man,  with  bands  of  love." 

At  the  close  of  one  of  the  morning  services,  as  the 

minister  descended  from  the  desk,  Capt.  T came 

up  the  aisle  and  met  him,  evidently  inviting  conversa- 
tion. The  offer  was  not  slighted,  and  a  most  interest- 
ing conversation  ensued.  There  was  no  desire  for 
argument  or  debate,  but  as  a  learner  he  desired  to 
know  the  truth.  He  frankly  confessed  that  he  was 
deeply  concerned  about  the  salvation  of  his  soul,  but 
had  difficulties  in  his  mind  arising  from  mistaken 
views  of  the  plan  of  salvation ;  he  could  not  feel  the 
"terrors  of  the  law,"  which  he  had  heard  others  de- 
scribe, and  which  he  supposed  he  must  of  necessity 
feel,  before  he  could  "  find  peace  in  believing ;"  he 
could  with  truth  say  that  his  sins  gave  him  pain  and 
anguish  of  mind,  but  his  distress  was  in  conseqnence 
of  his  guilt  in  having  abused  the  mercy  of  God,  and 
despised  his  love  in  giving  his  only  begotten  Son  to 
die  for  such  a  sinner  as  he  felt  himself  to  be.  The 
goodness  of  God  had  followed  him  all  the  days  of  his 
life,  while  he  had  done  naught  but  sin  against  Him  : 
the  remembrance  of  these  things  overwhelmed  him 
with  shame  and  confusion  of  face.  What  must  I  do 
to  be  saved  ?  was  now  his  earnest  inquiry.  With 
tears  of  gratitude  the  servant  of  God  tauglit  him  the 
"  way  of  the  Lord  more  perfectly,"  directing  the  trem- 


54  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

bling  sailor's  attention  away  from  himself,  a  guilty 
creature,  away  from  every  earthly  help,  away  from 
the  works  of  the  law — leading  his  wandering  eye  to 
the  cross  of  Christ,  and  to  his  atoning  sacrifice ;  the 
fulness  of  Christ  was  presented  to  him,  and  the  effica- 
cy of  his  blood ;  the  sovereignty  and  freeness  of  grace 
were  shown,  and  he  was  directed  to  lift  up  the  trem- 
bling eye  of  faith,  to  look  and  live,  to  believe  and  be 
saved. 

In  the  evening  the  inquirer  was  found  again  in  the 
temple  of  God,  but  under  what  different  circumstan- 
ces !  Then  he  was  wretched,  now  he  was  unspeakably 
happy;  peace  had  come  in  like  a  river,  and  he  could 
rejoice  in  hope  of  the  glory  of  God.  In  the  spirit  of 
a  little  child  he  was  seeking  direction  in  the  path  of 
duty,  desirous  only  to  consecrate  himself,  body,  soul, 
and  spirit,  to  the  service  of  his  divine  Master,  and  to 
promote  the  glory  of  Him  who  had  saved  him  by  his 
grace. 

"  When  the  meeting  commenced,"  said  tlie  captain, 
"  I  resolved  to  attend  every  night,  not  that  I  might  be 
spiritually  profited,  but  in  the  hope  of  receiving  some 
instruction  in  elocution  from  the  delivery  and  gestures 
of  the  visiting  minister ;  I  was  delighted  the  first 
evening,  as  I  felt  assured  that  the  speaker  had  studied 
my  favorite  author,  and  that  I  now  should  have  the 
benefit  of  a  living  model  for  my  imitation.  The 
next  evening  I  was  at  times  so  much  interested  in  the 
subject  of  discourse,  as  to  forget  the  manner  of  the 
preacher ;  and  on  the  subsequent  evenings  I  lost  sight 
of  what  first  brought  me  to  the  house  of  God,  in  the 
interest  I  felt  in  the  truth  which  was  preached.  1 
felt  very  uneasy ;  I  quarrelled  with  myself;  I  lost  my 


THE  SEA-CAPTAIN.  55 

own  esteem ;  my  vile  ingratitude  to  God  rose  up  be- 
fore me,  and  I  was  self-condemued.  I  was  now  under 
instruction,  not  in  elocution,  but  in  things  of  a  higher 
and  holier  nature,  '  the  mystery  of  grace ;'  the  law  of 
God  was  now  my  schoolmaster  to  lead  me  to  Christ. 
The  'motions'  of  the  preacher  did  not  now  interest 
me ;  but  '  the  mofmis  of  sins  whicii  were  by  the  law, 
did  work  in  my  members,'  and  the  Spirit  of  God  con- 
vinced me  of  sin,  of  righteousness,  and  of  judgment. 
I  bowed  my  knees  in  prayer  to  God,  for  the  first  time 
in  many  years.  I  called  upon  him  to  have  mercy 
upon  a  guilty  creature;  but  no  relief  could  I  obtain, 
until  to-day,  while  the  minister  was  unfolding  the  way 
of  salvation  through  faith  in  a  once  crucified,  but  now 
risen  Saviour,  I  was  enabled  to  exercise  faith  on  him. 
My  burden  of  guilt  was  removed,  the  storm  within  my 
soul  was  calmed,  my  fears  subsided,  and  I  was  un- 
speakably happy  in  the  love  of  God." 

When  the  inquirers  were  invited  to  meet  the  min- 
isters and  deacons  for  instruction,  the  first  to  rise 
from  his  place  was  Captain  T ,  who  walked  delib- 
erately from  the  rear  of  the  house,  and  with  a  face 
glowing  with  peace  and  joy,  took  a  seat  near  the  pul- 
pit. A  thrill  went  through  the  house,  as  mysterious 
as  the  electric  influence  ;  tears  filled  nearly  every  eye, 
while  thanksgiving  to  God  went  up  from  every  pious 
heart.  The  influence  of  his  decision  was  felt  on  every 
side.  Many,  very  many  men  and  women  followed  his 
example,  were  found  as  humble  penitents  sitting  at  the 
feet  of  Jesus,  and  afterwards  "  witnessed  a  good  con- 
fession before  many  witnesses." 

Captain  T was  eminently  useful.     Wherever 

he  went,  he  carried  the  gospel  of  peace.     His  ship 


66  SKETCHES  FROM   LIFE. 

was  a  Bethel ;  many  a  desponding  heart  did  he  com- 
fort by  his  counsels  and  his  prayers,  and  many  a  proud 
caviller  was  silenced  by  his  arguments,  enforced  by 
the  power  of  a  consistent  life. 

This  narrative  illustrates  two  points : 

1.  The  importance  of  being  found  in  the  house  of 
God,  under  the  influence  of  the  means  of  grace.  Mul- 
titudes have  come  to  the  sanctuary  with  no  higher 
motive  than  did  the  subject  of  the  above  sketcli,  but 
who,  "being  in  the  way,"  were  made  to  realize  that 
the  "word  of  God  is  quick  and  powerful." 

2.  Christians  should  not  regard  the  case  of  any 
one  as  hopeless,  nor  cease  to  labor  for  their  salvation. 
The  Spirit  of  God  can  soften  the  hardest  heart,  can 
subdue  the  most  stubborn  will.  Many  apparently 
tlioughtless  persons  feel  more  on  the  subject  of  relig- 
ion than  they  are  willing  to  confess.  AVe  should  fol- 
low them  with  our  prayers,  and  in  "  due  season  we 
shall  reap,  if  we  faint  not."  l^avies. 


THE   LAST  EESOLVE. 

It  was  a  cold,  raw  evening  in  March,  when  the 

Rev.  Mr.  B had  just  returned  from  visiting  some 

of  his  parishioners,  and  was  gathering  around  him  liis 
little  family  for  evening  worship,  that  a  loud  ring  was 
heard  at  the  door,  and  a  young  man  was  shown  into 

the  parlor.      Wishing  to  see  Mr.  B alone,  they 

retired  together  to  his  study.  He  soon  returned,  say- 
ing he  had  been  sent  for  to  see  Sarah  J ,  a  mem- 
ber of  his  congregation,  who  had  for  a  long  time  been 
anxious  about  her  soul,  and  now  desired  to  converse 
with  him. 


THE  LAST  RESOLVE.  51 

He  left  the  liouse  with  the  messenger,  and  a  walk 
of  a  few  moments  brought  them  to  her  door.  Inquir- 
ing where  he  should  find  Sarah,  he  was  told  by  her 

father  that  she  was  in  the  library  alone.     Mr.  B 

quickly  found  her,  seated  on  the  sofa,  her  face  buried 
in  her  hands,  and  apparently  unconscious  of  every 
thing  around  her.  He  was  silent  a  few  moments,  hop- 
ing that  she  would  open  the  conversation  ;  but  finding 
that  she  remained  silent,  he  said,  "Jesus  Christ  came 
into  the  world  to  save  sinners."  "  I  came  not  to  call 
the  righteous,  but  sinners  to  repentance." 

Slie  started  up  suddenly,  and  fixing  her  eyes  upon 

him,  said,  "^Ir.  B ,  I  have  not  sent  for  you  to  mock 

my  misery,  but  to  tell  you  of  my  last  resolve.  I  have 
been  wretched  for  more  than  a  year  and  now,  at  all 
hazards,  1  shall  banish  the  subject  of  religion  from  my 
mind.  I  wish  you  to  promise  me  that  you  will  never 
again  speak  to  me  on  the  subject,  for  it  will  do  no 
good,  and  will  only  increase  my  misery." 

"It  is  asking  a  great  deal,  Sarah,  of  one  whose 
mission  it  is  to  preacli  the  glad  tidings  of  salvation 
to  every  sinner,  to  keep  silent  when  he  sees  one  in  such 
a  state  as  you  are.  It  is  asking  too  much ;  and  I  can- 
not, either  as  a  minister  or  a  Christian,  make  such  a 
promise.  But  may  I  ask  what  has  caused  this  change 
in  your  feelings  since  I  saw  you  last  ?  I  have  thought 
you  seemed  almost  persuaded  to  be  a  Christian." 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  "  I  did  feel  so  then  ;  but  now 
God  has  forsaken  me.  I  am  left  to  myself,  and  the 
only  thing  for  me  is  to  forget  the  past,  and  seek  my 
pleasure  in  the  world !" 

"  But,  Sarah,  you  cannot  forget  the  danger  of  your 
immortal  soul.  You  cannot  forget  that  you  must  soon 
3* 


58  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

appear  before  God,  and  answer  for  the  manner  iu 
wliicli  you  now  treat  the  offer  of  his  grace.  You  can- 
not", you  must  not  forget  that  the  Saviour  lias  died  for 
you  ;  and  will  you  not  now  accept  the  proffered  gift  of 
life?'' 

"  No,"  she  said  hastily  ;  "  I  did  not  send  for  you  to 
argue  with  me.  I  only  wished  to  tell  you  of  my  de- 
cision, and  that  you  need  trouble  yourself  no  further 
about  me." 

"  Certainly  I  shall  not  insist  upon  conversing  with 
you  against  your  wishes ;  but  before  I  leave  you,  let 
me  urge  you  to  consider  well  what  you  call  your  last 
resolve,  and  ask  yourself  if  you  think  it  will  be  satis- 
factory to  you  when  on  a  dying-bed,  or  at  the  judg- 
ment-day. Still  there  is  hope  for  you.  '  Now  is  the 
accepted  time,  now  is  the  day  of  salvation.' "     Mr. 

B paused,  hoping  she  would  make  some  reply ; 

but  finding  she  remained  unmoved,  he  said,  "  Sarah, 
shall  I  pray  with  you?" 

."  No,"  she  said,  coldly ;  and  seeing  he  could  do 
nothing  more  for  her,  he  bade  her  good-evening,  and 
left  the  house. 

Long  and  earnestly  that  night  did  the  man  of  God 
pray  for  the  renewal  of  that  obstinate  heart,  anc^ 
when  he  retired  to  rest,  it  was  with  a  weight  upon  his 
heart  which  every  pastor,  yes,  every  Christian,  must 
sometimes  feel.  The  next  day  he  heard  nothing  from 
Sarah,  and  thinking  that  after  what  had  passed  his 
presence  might  only  increase  her  opposition,  he  re^ 
frained  from  calling  upon  her.  In  the  evening  there 
was  public  service,  and  as  he  entered  he  was  surprised 
to  see  Sarah  in  her  accustomed  seat.  Before  dismiss- 
ing the  congregation,  he  requested  any  who  desired 


POOR   WILLIAM.  59 

to  converse  with  liim  to  remain  after  the  services  were 
closed. 

Much  to  his  astonishment,  Sarah  remained.  Ex- 
tending her  hand  to  him,  she  said,  "  Last  evening,  Mr. 

B ,  I  told  you  of  one  resolve  I  had  made.     I  hope 

I  have  been  brought  to  a  very  different  one.  I  can 
think  of  nothing  but  my  own  dreadfully  wicked  heart. 

I  feel  that  I  must  be  a  Christian.    Mr.  B ,  do  tell 

me  how  I  can  find  my  Saviour  ?'' 

Gladly  did  her  pastor  point  her  to  "  the  Lamb  of 
God,  who  taketh  away  the  sin  of  the  world,"  and 
eagerly  did  she  listen  to  the  gracious  promises  and 
invitations  of  the  Saviour;  and  with  her  eye  filled 
with  tears,  and  yet  her  countenance  beaming  with 
holy  joy,  she  exclaimed,  "  Lord,  I  believe ;  help  thou 
mine  unbelief."  Her  subsequent  life  gave  evidence 
that  she  had  indeed  found  "  the  pearl  of  great  price." 

''I  must  he  a  Christian!"  This  was  Sarah's  last 
resolve.     Shall  it  not  be  yours  also?  s. 


POOR  WILLIAM. 

The  grace  of  God  is  displayed  no  less  in  the 
depths  of  poverty  and  ignorance  to  which  it  descends, 
than  in  the  higher  walks  of  life  of  whicli  it  forms  the 
brightest  ornament.  This  truth  has  a  pleasing  illus- 
tration in  the  following  narrative  of  poor  William, 
whom  the  writer  well  knew,  and  who  was  born  in 
• ,  Conn.,  about  the  year  1740. 

He  was  lame  and  deformed,  and  could  never  stand 
upright  or  walk  unless  supported  by  two  staves.  His 
parents  were  poor ;  he  had  not  strength  of  limb  to 


60  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

use  the  implements  of  husbandry ;  his  speech  was  so 
indistinct  as  scarcely  to  be  understood  by  strangers ; 
-and  his  mind  and  memory  were  so  weak  that  all  efforts 
to  teach  him  to  read  seemed  to  be  unavailing.  His 
condition  was  also  apparently  rendered  more  hopeless 
by  the  fact  that,  in  the  inability  of  his  parents  to  sup- 
port so  helpless  a  child,  he  was  early  separated  from 
them  by  the  authorities  of  the  town ;  but  he  was  hap- 
pily placed  in  a  religious  and  worthy  family. 

Here  he  early  discovered  uncommon  depravity. 
He  was  cross,  intractable,  mischievous,  perverse.  He 
seemed  almost  destitute  of  reflection  or  consciousness 
of  right  and  wrong  ;  he  gave  way  to  an  uncontrolled 
appetite,  whether  for  food  or  strong  drink  ;  and  often 
used  the  most  profane,  obscene,  and  opprobrious  lan- 
guage, and  thus  exhibited  without  restraint,  and  in  its 
most  fearful  aspects,  the  native  depravity  of  the  hu- 
man heart.  He  gave  no  indications  of  religious  influ- 
ence on  his  mind,  or  any  just  apprehension  of  God  or 
the  future  world,  and  could  be  controlled  only  by  the 
fear  of  corporeal  punishment. 

Young  children,  who  were  weaker  than  himself,  it 
was  his  pleasure  to  annoy  by  running  after  them  as  he 
could  with  his  two  staves  and  bent  body,  or  throwing 
sticks  or  stones  at  them,  so  that  he  became  the  terror 
of  the  neighborhood.  Few  human  beings,  probably, 
have  had  less  in  them  that  was  attractive  or  hopeful 
as  to  the  present  or  the  future  world.  Thus  poor 
William  continued  till  near  middle  life,  loving  no 
one,  beloved  by  no  one,  deformed  in  soul  and  body, 
and  verifying  the  appalling  description  of  the  apos- 
tle, "  hateful  and  hating  one  another." 

"  Can  the  Ethiopian  change  his  skin,  or  the  leop- 


POOR  WILLIAM.  61 

ard  his  spots?"  "Then  may  they  also  do  good  who 
arc  accustomed  to  do  evil ;"  and  by  the  power  of 
superabounding  grace,  vile,  degraded  William  may 
yet  "  shine  above  the  brightness  of  the  firmament,  and 
as  the  stars  for  ever  and  ever." 

A  little  before  the  war  of  the  Revolution,  when 
the  state  of  religion  throughout  the  country  was  gen- 
erally low,  the  presence  of  the  Spirit  was  enjoyed  by 
the  people  among  whom  William  dwelt;  many  prom- 
ising young  people  were  brought  to  Christ,  and  in  the 
fervor  of  their  love  and  joy  they  sometimes,  between 
the  public  exercises  of  the  Sabbath  in  summer,  gath- 
ered under  the  shadow  of  a  tree  near  the  house  of 
God,  where  they  conversed,  read,  and  sung  hymns  of 
praise.  One  day  poor  William,  who  it  seems  often 
attended  the  sanctuary,  strolled  in  among  them,  and 
whether  by  what  he  saw,  or  by  any  special  warnings 
addressed  to  him,  is  unknown,  but  the  Holy  Spirit 
there  reached  liis  heart,  arousing  his  conscience,  alarm- 
ing him  on  account  of  his  sins,  and  drawing  his  atten- 
tion to  the  concerns  of  his  soul. 

Now  his  feeble  mind,  which  had  been  unstable  as 
water,  and  never  before  was  known  to  be  perma- 
nently affected  by  any  tiling  that  did  not  appeal 
directly  to  his  senses,  became  fixed  on  the  subject  of 
his  salvation  and  preparation  to  meet  his  final  Judge. 
He  was  terrified  at  the  view  of  his  dark  and  hopeless 
condition  as  a  sinner,  and  earnestly  implored  instruc- 
tion  ;  nor  was  he  satisfied  with  any  thing  until  Christ, 
tlie  great  atoning  sacrifice  for  sin,  the  "  one  Mediator 
between  God  and  man,"  was  clearly  set  before  him. 
His  pastor  spared  no  pains  to  pour  the  simplest  gos- 
pel truths  into  his  dark  mind  ;  and  most  evidently  the 


62  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

Holy  Spirit  gave  peace  to  his  soul  through  faith  in  a 
crucified  Redeemer. 

From  that  time  no  profane  or  irreverent  language 
escaped  his  lips  ;  he  was  no  longer  perverse  and  mis- 
chievous ;  he  was  now  easily  controlled  in  respect  to 
the  evil  habits  he  had  formed,  and  became  submissive 
and  gentle  as  a  child.  He  feared  and  loved  God. 
Nothing  delighted  him  more  than  to  hear  Christians 
talk  of  Christ,  the  riches  of  his  mercy,  and  all  he  has 
done  to  save  lost  men.  His  wild  countenance  as- 
sumed a  milder  aspect ;  his  temper  became  peaceful 
and  happy,  and  little  children  flocked  to  him  and  de- 
lighted in  him  as  a  companion  in  their  harmless  sports. 
The  transformation  was  observed  by  the  older  and 
more  discerning  with  astonislnnent,  for  they  saw  iu 
him  marked  evidence  that  he  had  indeed  become  a 
"  new  creature  in  Christ  Jesus." 

It  was  at  first  doubted  by  some  whether  one  so 
Weak  in  mind  should  be  received  into  the  church  ;  but 
he  professed  his  faith  in  receiving  baptism,  and  was 
admitted  to  full  communion.  He  showed  a  peculiar 
love  to  the  people  of  God ;  and  when  he  learned  that 
others  were  seriously  inclined,  would  visit  them,  and 
inquire  after  their  state  with  a  simplicity  and  serious- 
ness often  truly  affecting.  His  faithful  pastor  was 
especially  endeared  to  him.  Hearing  of  the  good 
man's  death,  William,  though  then  many  miles  distant, 
hastened  to  attend  the  funeral,  saying  to  the  mourn- 
ing son  of  the  deceased  whom  he  met  at  the  door, 

"  They  tell  Mr.  S dead  ;  I  be  glad  on 't ;"  that  is, 

he  rejoiced  that  he  had  "  kept  the  faith,"  "  finished  his 
course,"  and  gone  to  receive  the  "  crown  of  righteous- 
ness reserved  for  him  against  that  day  J' 


POOR  WILLIAM.  63 

William's  Christian  walk  was  generally  consist- 
ent. In  a  few  instances  he  was  known  to  exhibit  a 
wrong  temper,  but  his  sorrow  for  it  was  most  siAccre. 
On  one  occasion,  before  the  present  principles  of  total 
abstinence  from  intoxicating  liquor  prevailed,  a  de- 
signing young  man,  being  alone  with  him,  gave  him 
a  sweet  mixed  liquor,  by  which  he  was  intoxicated. 
When  he  came  to  himself,  and  knew  what  had  been 
done,  he  cried  and  wept  bitterly,  and  gave  the  most 
satisfactory  evidence  of  true  repentance  before  God 
and  man. 

Generally  he  was  happy  in  the  enjoyment  of  God 
and  the  anticipation  of  heaven.  Sometimes  he  was 
clouded  with  fears  and  temptation ;  but  he  would  say, 
"  The  devil  comes,  picks  me  all  to  pieces — I  cry — 
pray  hard  to  my  blessed  Master — and  the  devil  then 
goes  away."  Thus  William  pursued  his  course  till 
the  Master  called  him  to  sit  down  in  his  kingdom. 

Can  the  deniers  of  the  Bible  and  of  the  truths 
distinguished  as  evangelical  produce,  in  all  their  an- 
nals, such  an  example  of  moral  elevation  as  was  effect- 
ed in  poor  William  ?  Did  Deism  or  Universalism  ever 
work  such  a  change?  Such  results  are  effected  only 
by  the  word  and  Spirit  of  God. 

Is  the  reader,  with  all  his  superior  advantages, 
living  "  without  hope  and  without  God  in  the  world?" 
Let  not  poor  William  stand  in  the  judgment  a  witness, 
against  you.  "  Christ "  must  be  formed  "  in  you  the 
hope  of  glory,"  or  to  the  heaven  where  poor  Will- 
iam's stammering  tongue  now  lifts  the  song  of  praise 
you  can  never  come;  but  like  him,  "Seek  the  Lord 
while  he  may  be  found,"  sincerely  and  with  all  your 
heart,  and  your  salvation  is  secure.  t.  s. 


G4  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

POOR   DINAH. 

Early  one  Monday  morning,  more  than  thirty  years 
ago,  in  the  heiglit  of  tlie  most  powerful  revival  that  I 
had  ever  witnessed,  a  colored  woman  called  and  wish- 
ed to  see  me.  I  invited  her  into  my  study,  and  saw 
at  once  that  she  was  in  trouble.  Great  anxiety  was 
depicted  in  her  countenance,  and  I  suspected  the  cause, 
or  rather  hoped  she  had  come  to  inquire  what  she  must 
do  to  be  saved.  *'  Dinah,"  I  said,  "  I  am  glad  to  see 
you;  but  you  seem  to  be  unhappy.  "What  is  the  mat- 
ter?" With  an  utterance  almost  choked  by  her  strug- 
gling emotions,  she  answered,  "  I  don  't  know.  I  feel 
dreadfully.''^  "How  long  have  you  felt  so?"  "Ever 
since  yesterday  afternoon."  "And  what  made  you 
feel  dreadfully  then?"  "I  can  't  tell.  I  was  to  meet- 
in'  ;  and  when  you  was  preachin',  somcthin'  struck  me 
here,"  smiting  upon  her  breast,  "just  as  if  a  knife  had 
gone  right  through  my  heart." 

Never  in  my  life  was  I  so  struck  myself  as  by  this 
answer.  Here  was  a  poor  colored  woman  wlio  had 
been  brought  up  a  slave  in  a  neighboring  state,  who 
could  not  read  a  word  in  the  Bible  or  any  other  book, 
and  who  had  never,  I  believe,  received  any  religious 
instruction  from  her  master.  I  had  seen  her  a  few 
times  in  the  gallery,  but  never  dreamed  of  such  a 
visit  from  her,  and  still  less  of  such  an  illustration, 
almost  in  the  very  words  of  scripture,  of  the  power  of 
truth  upon  the  heart  of  one  so  ignorant  of  its  nature 
and  effects. 

"  I  felt  as  if  a  knife  struck  right  through  m.y  heart. ' 
Had  she  ever  heard  of  Peter's  sermon  on  the  day  of 
pentecost,  and  how  his  audience  were  "  pricked  in  the 


POOR   DINAH.  65 

heart"  by  it?  Probably  not.  Certain  it  is,  she  never 
had  read  it ;  and  so  ignorant  was  she,  that  if  she  had, 
she  might  not  have  understood  what  being  pricked  in 
the  heart  meant.  But  she  felt  it,  and  unconsciously 
expressed  herself  just  as  if  she  had  been  one  of  the 
three  thousand.  And  then  that  other  scripture  in  the 
letter  of  blessed  Paul  to  the  Hebrews  came  to  my 
mind  :  "  The  word  of  God  is  quick  and  powerful, 
sharper  than  any  two-edged  sword,  piercing  even  to 
the  dividing  asunder  of  soul  and  spirit,  and  of  the 
joints  and  marrow,  and  is  a  discerner  of  the  Ijioughts 
and  intents  of  the  heart."  Also  that  in  Ephesians, 
"  Take  the  sword  of  the  Spirit,  which  is  the  word  of 
God." 

Here  was  an  example  and  illustration  before  my 
eyes  of  what  those  scriptures  mean  ;  for  I  soon  found, 
upon  further  inquiries,  that  though  Dinah  could  not 
tell  what  ailed  her,  she  for  the  first  time  felt  that  she 
was  a  great  sinner;  and  0  how  eagerly  she  listened, 
while  I  told  her,  as  well  as  I  could,  what  she  must  do 
to  be  saved.  Poor  creature,  it  was  all  new  to  her. 
"How  could  she  find  her  way  to  the  cross?"  And 
she  went  away  as  sorrowful  as  she  came. 

She  did  not  remain  in  that  state  a  great  while ; 
but  while  it  lasted,  it  bowed  her  to  the  earth.  "  She 
went  mourning  all  the  day,"  scarcely  daring  to  hope 
that  such  a  poor  ignorant  sinner  could  be  saved. 
And  when  the  burden  was  taken  off,  she  was  about  as 
much  at  a  loss  to  account  for  its  removal  as  she  had 
been  to  tell  what  ailed  her  at  our  first  interview. 
She  knew  there  was  a  great  change  of  some  sort  in 
her  feelings,  but  what  to  make  of  it  she  did  not  know, 
unless  it  was  that  she  was  becoming  stupid  again. 


66  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

She  did  not  for  some  time  seem  to  imagine  that  it 
could  be  a  change  of  heart,  and  I  thought  it  safer  to 
let  her  gradually  find  out  by  the  teacliing  of  the  Spirit, 
than  to  tell  her  at  once  that  I  hoped  she  had  "  passed 
from  death  unto  life ;"  "  being  confident  of  this  Axry 
thing,  that  He  which  had  begun  a  good  work  in  her, 
would  perform  it  until  the  day  of  Jesus  Christ.'"' 

As  may  well  be  supposed,  Dinah  needed  a  great 
deal  of  instruction,  and  she  most  thankfully  received 
it,  giving  increasing  evidence  that  Christ  was  formed 
in  her  the  hope  of  glory.  When  the  first-fruits  of  the 
revival  were  gathered  into  the  church,  about  four 
months  after  it  commenced,  she  stood  up  and  entered 
into  covenant  with  God  and  his  people,  with  nearly  a 
hundred  others,  among  whom  were  lawyers,  physi- 
cians, merchants,  and  altogether  a  large  majority  of 
the  first  men  in  the  town.  There  was  poor  Dinah  in 
the  midst  of  them,  and  none  more  welcome  than  she. 
She  had  thought  for  years  that  she  was  too  old  to 
Jearn  to  read ;  but  now  she  was  eager  to  be  taught, 
and  some  of  the  young  ladies  in  the  neighborhood  as 
eagerly  volunteered  to  instruct  her. 

To  all  human  view  she  adorned  her  profession, 
"  walking  humbly  with  God."  She  is  now  dead,  and 
I  believe  she  has  gone  to  heaven,  and  that  her  gar- 
ments have  been  washed  in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb, 
and  made  as  white  as  any  of  our  robes  will  be.  Mul- 
titudes of  such  will  be  found  in  heaven ;  and  what 
greater  privilege  can  ministers  enjoy  than  leading 
them  to  Christ?  It  is  worth  more  "than  thousands 
of  gold  and  silver."  I  am  sure  tlie  conversion  of 
poor  Dinah  is  and  will  be  one  of  the  happiest  remi- 
niscences of  my  pastoral  life.  H.  H. 


AUNT  DELPHY.  67 


AUNT  DELPHY. 


Perhaps  no  region  of  our  countr)',  in  fertility  of 
soil,  scenery,  and  climate,  surpasses  that  portion  of 
Virginia  which  stretches  for  hundreds  of  miles  along 
the  eastern  slope  of  the  Blue  Ridge.  Nowhere  are 
the  poet's  lines  more  true  : 

"Hills  peep  o'er  bills,  and  alps  o'er  alps  arise." 

The  scenery  of  this  region  is  solemn  and  elevat- 
ing, and  lifts  the  thoughts  of  the  devout  mind  which 
sees  God  in  all  his  works,  in  adoration  to  Him  who 
"  settetli  fast  the  mountains,  being  girded  with  power." 

But  our  object  is  not  so  much  to  give  a  description 
of  this  region,  as  to  speak  of  a  visit  we  paid  to  an 
aged  colored  woman  by  the  name  of  Delphy,  of  whose 
case  we  heard  through  a  pious  physician  who  some- 
times visited  her.  In  company  with  him  we  found 
our  way  with  some  difficulty  by  a  bridle  path  through 
the  woods  to  her  cabin,  which  was  far  distant  from 
any  other  dwelling.  Its  outward  appearance  was 
comfortless  and  neglected  ;  built  of  unhewn  timbers, 
plastered  with  mud  ;  the  floor  of  dirt,  and  uneven ; 
no  furniture  but  two  bedsteads  and  an  old  chair ;  no 
window,  the  light  being  admitted  through  the  door 
and  from  the  wide  and  low  chimney.  A  shelf  nailed 
against  the  wall  held  a  few  vials  of  medicine. 

Upon  one  of  the  beds  near  the  chimney  lay  the 
woman  we  came  to  see.  She  had  received  an  injury 
in  her  youth,  which  paralyzed  her  lower  limbs,  so  that 
they  had  been  incapable  of  motion  for  more  than  forty 
years.  During  all  that  time  she  had  suffered  acute 
nervous  pains  shooting  through  her  limbs.     She  had 


68  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

been  for  many  years  entirely  blind.  Her  few  and 
simple  wants  were  but  scantily  supplied.  But  not- 
withstanding this  coraplieated  suffering,  she  had,  we 
were  repeatedly  assured,  never  been  heard  to  mur- 
mur, and  her  faith  and  patience  had  been  the  admira- 
tion of  all  who  have  known  her.  For  more  than 
twenty  years,  as  she  told  us,  she  had  not  heard  the 
Bible  read,  nor  did  she  remember  ever  having  been 
visited  before  by  a  Christian  minister. 

We  found  her  quite  ignorant  of  every  thing  ex- 
cept the  simplest  truths  of  the  gospel — that  she  was 
a  great  sinner,  and  that  Christ  was  a  great  Saviour — ■ 
in  the  strength  of  which  she  had  gone  through  the 
long  period  of  this  dreadful  affliction.  She  spoke  of 
her  alarm  and  terror  in  her  conversion  at  the  sight  of 
her  sins,  which,  she  said,  were  as  great  as  the  moun- 
tain near  by,  and  as  black  as  charcoal.  When  asked 
if  she  was  willing  to  endure  the  same  suffering  for  ten 
or  fifteen  years  longer,  she  replied,  that  though  she 
desired  to  depart,  yet  she  was  willing  to  wait  "  as 
long  as  God  loved  it."  To  the  question,  whether  she 
ever  doubted  the  love  of  her  Saviour  in  thus  leaving 
her  to  suffer  so  long,  she  answered  that  she  could  not, 
after  he  had  died  to  save  her. 

In  her  experience  she  had,  as  she  supposed,  a 
trance,  in  which  she  went  to  heaven ;  and  when  wish- 
ing to  stay  there,  lest,  if  she  went  back  to  this  world, 
she  should  sin  again,  was  told  that  she  must  return  and 
warn  her  fellow-sinners.  She  was  once,  we  were  cred- 
ibly informed,  for  some  time  in  a  state  of  suspended 
animation,  when  she  had,  as  she  thinks,  this  vision. 
However  this  may  be,  it  does  not  affect  the  reality  of 
the  rest  of  her  religious  experience,  nor  should  it  cast 


AUNT  DELPHY  69 

any  suspicion  over  the  genuineness  of  her  conversion. 
Such  trances  are  very  often  spoken  of  among  colored 
persons,  and  with  them  form  almost  a  necessary  part 
of  true  conversion.  She  had  certainly  been  faithful 
in  warning,  or  as  she  called  it,  pleading  with  those 
around  her.  She  evidently  possessed  the  substance  of 
true  piety — most  unfaltering  trust  in  God  ;  she  could 
say  with  Job,  "  Though  he  slay  me,  yet  will  I  trust  in 
him ;"  and  there  was  in  her  case  the  most  constant 
and  simple  looking  to  Jesus'  fulness  of  grace  and 
strength. 

xVs  I  looked  round  her  neglected  dwelling,  and 
upon  her  countenance  radiant  with  the  deepest  sub- 
mission to  the  will  of  God,  I  thought  of  the  light 
afflictions  over  which  so  many  Christians  think  they 
have  cause  to  murmur,  compared  with  Delphy's  mighty 
trial  for  forty  years.  They  would  have  done  well  to 
visit  her  dwelling,  and  witness  her  "  sad  variety  of 
pain,"  that  they  might  learn  a  lesson  of  patience.  De- 
prived of  sight  and  of  tlie  use  of  her  limbs,  in  the 
sordid  hut  of  cheerless  poverty,  her  food  and  cloth- 
ing insufficient,  she  never  murmured,  but  took  pleas- 
ure in  suffering  God's  will. 

We  might  learn,  too,  from  this  case  of  "  long-suf- 
fering with  joyfulness,"  how  unimportant  our  condi- 
tion is  in  this  world,  compared  with  that  in  the  world 
to  come.  In  this  mean  cabin  lay  one  of  God's  hidden 
ones,  an  heir  of  glory  who  is  to  possess  all  things. 
Her  piety  hallowed  her  home,  though  poor  indeed, 
and  converted  it,  in  the  eye  of  faith,  into  a  palace 
wliich  kings  miglit  covet. 

Her  case,  too,  proves  that  God  is  no  respecter  of 
persons.      He  had  evidently  revealed  unto  her  wliat 


10  SKETCHES   FROM   LIFE. 

is  hid  from  "the  wise  and  prudent"  among  men,  as  if 
to  show  the  sovereignty  of  his  grace,  and  how  little 
truth,  if  it  be  received  "  in  an  honest  and  good  heart," 
can  carry  a  soul  to  heaven.  Let  ns  hope  that  many 
such  cases  of  piety,  far  more  than  we  arc  wont  to 
imagine,  may  be  found,  especially  among  our  colored 
population,  in  the  remote  cabins  of  our  mountains 
and  valleys.  j.  p. 


A  VAGABOND. 


Some  years  since,  as  a  congregation  in  one  of  the 
beautiful  and  retired  villages  of  Connecticut  were 
assembled  on  Sabbath  morning,  a  well-known  aban- 
doned character,  to  their  great  surprise,  came  in 
among  them.  He  was  a  friendless,  homeless,  wander- 
ing vagabond,  possessed  originally  of  a  strong  mind 
and  retentive  memory.  His  intemperance  had  become 
so  excessive  that  he  was  subject  to  the  most  violent 
attacks  of  delirium  tremens;  and  when  the  fits  were 
upon  him,  he  resembled  the  .demoniacs  in  the  gospel. 
To  escape  the  devil,  he  would  rush  down  precipices, 
throw  himself  into  the  water,  and  wander  through 
fields  and  woods  and  swamps,  fancying  that  his  tor- 
mentor Avas  ever  at  his  heels. 

It  is  not  surprising  that  the  worshippers  of  a  staid 
New  England  church  should  be  startled  by  the  en- 
trance of  such  a  vagrant.  Many  whispered,  "  What 
has  brought  him  here  ?"  In  answer  to  a  similar  ques- 
tion at  the  close  of  the  service,  he  replied,  "  I  have 
come  to  get  good  to  my  soul."  Grace  had  reached 
the  heart  of  the  outcast.  He  was  then  sitting  at  the 
feet  of  the  Saviour,  in  his  right  mind.     The  dress  of 


A  VAGABOND. 


a  vagabond  was  soon  changed  for  one  becoming  a  dis- 
ciple. He  immediately  abandoned  not  only  his  cups, 
but  his  tobacco,  lived  for  years  a  dignified,  devoted, 
consistent  Christian,  and  died  beloved  and  lamented. 
Scepticism  taxed  its  ingenuity  in  vain  to  account  for 
the  sudden  and  wonderful  change  in  the  character  of 
tliis  man,  but  his  devoted  piety  for  years  disarmed  all 
cavilling. 

As  this  is  a  very  unusual  instance  of  God's  deal- 
ings with  men,  it  is  well  to  consider  the  means  em- 
ployed in  his  conversion.  It  was  not  one  of  the 
blessed  results  that  attend  the  pledge  of  total  absti- 
nence, in  its  great  work  of  reform  for  the  abandoned. 


72  SKETCHES   FROM   LIFE. 

It  was  not  amid  revival  scenes.  It  was  not  the  ordi- 
nary preaching  of  the  gospel,  for  he  did  not  visit  the 
Sanctuary.  The  ladies  of  the  church,  in  their  monthly 
tract  distribution,  had  given  him  the  tract,  "  The  JJmi- 
able  Louisa,'"  at  a  house  where  he  called.  ',  He  read  it, 
and  God  blessed  it  to  the  salvation  of  his  soul. 

How  striking  the  fact  that  this  vagabond,  who 
had  always  been  a  stranger  to  the  saints,  was  imme- 
diately found  in  the  sanctuary  seeking  the  society  and 
sympathy  of  God's  people.  He  appeared  to  be  moved 
almost  by  an  irresistible  impulse  to  go  where  Chris- 
tians were  to  be  found,  and  where  they  worshipped. 

We  should  not  hastily  determine  that  any  jiian  is 
abandoned  of  God,  or  presume  that  God  has  said, 
"Let  him  alone,'"'"  to  any  fellow-being  tliis  side  of  a 
miserable  eternity. 

There  is  a  '"patient  continuance"  in  Christian 
efforts,  with  which  "God  is  well  pleased."  "In  the 
morning  sow  thy  seed,  and  in  the  evening  withhold 
not  thy  hand."  The  grand  characteristic  of  a  stew- 
ard of  God  is,  that  he  "  be  found  faithful."  K. 


A   PUPIL  AT  MOUNT  IIOLYOKE. 

A  young  lady  possessing  a  very  sweet  religious 
spirit,  gives  the  following  account  of  her  first  serious 
impressions : 

I  entered  the  seminary — the  Mount  Ilolyoke,  then 
under  the  care  of  the  lamented  Mary  Lyon — a  very 
gay  and  thoughtless  girl.  I  expected  I  should  have 
to  become  religious  some  time  or  other,  in  order  to 
save  my  soul  from  destruction ;  but  it  was  the  last 


A  PUPIL  AT  MOUNT  HOLYOKE.  73 

thing  I  desired  to  do,  and  I  hoped  for  long,  long  years 
of  enjoyment  first. 

Among  other  regulations  which  were  made  known 
to  us,  we  were  informed  that  every  pupil  was  required 
to  spend  half  an  hour  in  her  own  room  alone,  each  day. 
In  compliance  with  this  requisition,  I  entered  my  little 
apartment ;  all  was  silent,  solemn  ;  I  could  almost  hear 
the  beatings  of  my  heart,  and  an  unaccountable  awe 
stole  over  my  spirit.  I  could  not  trifle  with  or  ridi- 
cule the  regulation.  I  could  not  even  spend  the  time 
in  common  reading.  I  tried  to  do  so,  but  I  dared 
not.  Conscience  lifted  up  her  voice  in  that  deep 
silence,  and  made  itself  heard.  It  told  me  I  ought  to 
pray ;  and  I  felt  as  if  the  Almighty  himself  stood  by, 
commanding  me  to  pray,  and  listening  to  hear  if  I 
complied.  And  yet  I  had  no  desire  to  do  it.  My 
heart  was  cold  and  hard ;  I  was  distressed,  but  not 
melted — afraid,  but  not  penitent.  Slowly  the  time 
wore  away ;  I  gazed  out  of  the  window  on  the  noble 
range  of  mountains  visible  from  that  beautiful  loca- 
tion, and  beheld  the  glorious  works  of  the  gTcat  Cre- 
ator ;  but  while  my  heart  kindled  into  a  kind  of  poetic 
enthusiasm  at  the  sight,  I  had  no  desire  to  become  the 
child  of  that  divine  and  holy  Being ;  there  was  an 
opposition  to  the  very  idea  rising  up  in  my  breast. 
At  length  the  bell  summoned  me  to  the  recitation- 
room,  and  I  gladly  fled  from  that  dreary  solitude. 

Day  after  day  passed  in  a  similar  manner.  I  some- 
times read  a  little  in  my  Bible,  but  it  did  not  interest 
me  ;  yet  I  never  dared  read  any  thing  else,  so  thorough- 
ly was  my  conscience  awakened.  After  some  days  it 
occurred  to  me  what  a  wicked  creature  I  was,  to  be 
thus  unwilling  to  pray,  and  to  seek  Ilim  who  had  done 

Sketches.  4 


74  SKETCHES   FROM  LIFE. 

SO  much  for  mc,  and  who  alone  could  save  my  soul. 
I  dwelt  upon  the  thought,  and  for  several  successive 
days  a  sense  of  guilt  accumulated,  till  the  burden  was 
very  heavy  upon  my  soul ;  and  the  first  sincere  prayer 
I  ever  offered  in  my  lonely  room  was  wrung  from  me 
by  a  deep  conviction  of  my  sinfulness.  Almost  uncon- 
sciously I  cried,  "God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner!" 
And  he  was  merciful.  He  heard  my  feeble  cry,  and 
before  any  one  had  spoken  to  me  individually  upon 
the  subject  of  religion,  I  had  been  convinced  of  my 
great  guilt,  and  of  my  need  of  Jesus  for  a  Saviour. 
Much  excellent  instruction  was  given  to  the  pupils 
generally,  and  when  I  had  begun  to  cherish  a  faint, 
trembling  hope  that  my  sins  were  forgiven,  my  class- 
teacher  one  day  asked  me  if  I  hoped  I  was  a  Cliris- 
tian. 

The  principal  afterwards  had  a  conversation  with 
me,  and  I  need  not  say  to  any  one  who  has  known  her 
faithful  earnestness  and  tender  anxiety  for  her  pupils, 
how  replete  that  conversation  was  with  sound,  practi- 
cal wisdem.  When  I  told  her  how  I  was  first  led  to 
feel  upon  this  subject,  she  said,  "  Oh  yes,  it  is  because 
we  do  not  think,  that  we  are  so  unconcerned.  It  is 
Satan's  great  device  to  keep  souls  from  God,  to  occu- 
py them  so  completely  with  other  things,  that  tliey 
have  no  time  nor  opportunity  to  think;  when  we 
think,  the  Holy  Spirit  can  gain  entrance,  and  it  leads 
us  to  see  things  as  they  are. 

The  pupil  thus  led  to  Christ  removed  to  a  distant 
land  ;  and  thousands  of  miles  away  from  her  New 
England  home,  she  diffused  the  light  and  peace  ac- 
quired in  those  half-hours  of  solitary  meditation  and 
prayer.  G. 


^  A   RETURNING  PRODIGAL.  15 

A  RETUllXIXG   PRODIGAL. 

Returning  from  a  western  tour  during  the  spring 
of  1S5-,  the  vrritcr  providentially  became  a  travelling 

companion  with  the  Rev.  Mr.  K of  B .     Our 

passage  from  Detroit  was  taken  on  board  the  "  new 
and  splendid"  steamer  Ocean.  Amidst  the  throng 
that  crowded  the  saloon,  was  a  youth  whose  forbid- 
ding exterior  and  evidently  troubled  thoughts  attract- 
ed special  observation.  His  tattered  garb,  squalid 
appearance,  dejected  mien,  and  haggard  features,  were 
impressively  suggestive  of  the  prodigal's  history. 

To  avoid  unpleasant  annoyances,  we  had  secured 
a  state-room,  though  fitted  with  accommodations  for 
three  persons.  After  some  time,  however,  the  vacant 
berth  was  claimed ;  and  as  if  to  render  the  intrusion 
the  less  welcome,  the  claimant  was  none  other  than 
the  unpromising  and  forlorn  youth  spoken  of  above. 

"  The  hand  of  God  is  plainly  visible  in  this  intru- 
sion on  our  favorite  arrangement,"  said  my  compan- 
ion subsequently  ;  "  this  stranger  needs  religious  coun- 
sel ;  go,  converse  and  pray  with  him,  as  I  have 
endeavored  to  do."  Feeling  reproved  by  his  promp- 
titude in  ascertaining  the  spiritual  condition  of  a 
fellow-traveller,  especially  of  one  so  apparently  de- 
graded and  repulsive,  I  went  immediately.  The 
youth,  who  had  scarcely  reached  his  seventeenth  year, 
was  sitting  in  the  state-room  bathed  in  tears.  The 
following  is  his  history  as  given  by  him,  interrupted 
by  sobs  and  exclamations  against  himself.  His  pious 
mother,  living  at  Kingston,  Canada  West,  had  dealt 
with  him  faithfully  and  tenderly.  Chafing  under  the 
restraints  imposed  by  her  admonitions  and  prayers, 


76  SKETCHES  FROM   LIFE. 

he  had  three  years  previously  forsaken  his  home,  and 
"  taken  his  journey  into  a  far  country."  Employed  as 
a  driver  on  the  Illinois  canal,  he  had  fallen  upon  vi- 
cious courses,  and  made  himself  "  very  wicked  indeed." 
But  God,  not  willing  that  the  child  of  so  many  pray- 
ers should  perish,  but  should  rather  be  brought  to 
repentance,  had  sent  upon  him  sickness,  want,  and 
finally  a  disaster  which  fastened  on  him  for  life  a  dis- 
tressing lameness.  Now  with  shame  and  tears  he  had 
set  his  face  homeward. 

"What  do  you  propose  to  do  on  reaching  home?" 
"Beg  forgiveness  of  my  kind  mother  for  having  de- 
serted her  so  shamefully."  "Is  this  all?"  "I  ask 
God  to  pardon  my  sins ;  may  I  hope  he  is  willing  ? 
Do  pray  for  me  that  he  will."  "  Do  you  think  you 
deserve  his  forgiveness  ?"  "  No,  I  deserve  no  mercy." 
"  Do  you  think  God  is  unjust  in  inflicting  upon  you 
this  series  of  calamities,  especially  this  afflictive  lame- 
ness?" "No,  sir.  It  was  kind  in  him.  But  for 
them,  I  should  have  gone  on  in  wickedness,  and  come 
to  some  dreadful  end."  "  Do  you  not  fear  that  you 
shall  return  to  your  roving  and  abandoned  courses  ?" 
"  Not  if  God  will  show  me  mercy,  for  Jesus  will  be 
precious  to  me,  and  will  help  me  to  live  a  Christian 
life." 

He  seemed  truly  to  have  "  come  to  himself;"  and 
having  formed  the  resolution  to  "  arise  and  go  to  his 
Father,"  he  carried  it  into  instant  execution;  "he 
arose  and  came."  And  his  Father  was  evidently  wel- 
coming the  penitent  prodigal,  and  sending  into  his 
soul  the  spirit  of  adoption. 

The  encounter  with  this  wanderer  was  to  us  in- 
structive, and  we  would  hope  not  without  use  to  him. 


A  MODEL  OF  MORALITY.  77 

His  humility,  tenderness,  and  filial  spirit ;  his  child- 
like simplicity,  uttering  as  it  were  in  lisping  accents 
the  "  language  of  Canaan,"  rendered  those  interviews 
with  this  mendicant  prodigal  more  refreshing  than  the 
most  genial  companionships.  At  Buffalo  we  separat- 
ed— he  returning  to  his  Canadian  home,  and  we  to 
tlie  land  of  the  pilgrims,  in  the  hope  of  meeting  yet 
again  in  the  house  of  our  common  Father. 

1.  The  seed  planted  by  faithful  parents,  and  wa- 
tered with  many  prayers  and  tears,  may  be  expected 
sooner  or  later  to  spring  up  and  produce  saving  re- 
sults. 

2.  Souls  burdened  with  spiritual  anxieties  are 
round  about  us  when  we  least  think  it,  in  our  family, 
in  our  social  circle,  or  among  our  travelling  com- 
panions. 

3.  Providence  sometimes  flirusts  upon  us  as  it 
were  persons  of  unattractive,  perhaps  repulsive  ex- 
terior, for  the  express  purpose  of  benefiting  them 
through  our  influence.  "The  poor  ye  have  always 
with  you,  and  when  ye  will,  ye  may  do  them  good." 

4.  Christians  may  easily  unite  happiness  and  use- 
fulness in  their  journey ings,  if  they  but  have  an  eye 
open  to  opportunities  of  doing  good,  and  a  heart 
ready  to  seize  upon  them  and  delight  in  them. 


A   MODEL   OF   MORALITY. 

There  had  been  no  revival  of  religion  for  many 
years  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  T meeting- 
house ;  the  word  of  God  seemed  to  be  preached  in 
vain.     While  all  who  heard  paid  respectful  attention 


78  SKETCHES   FROM   LIFE. 

to  the  message  of  grace,  few  received  it  into  good  and 
honest  hearts.  It  was  a  discouraging  field,  and  the 
servant  of  God  often'  had  occasion  to  "  weep  between 
the  porch  and  the  altar,"  and  to  say,  "  Lord,  who  hath 
believed  our  report?"  The  people  were  not  infidels, 
they  were  not  profane  or  grossly  wicked,  far  from  it ; 
very  few  neighborlioods  could  be  found  where  the 
standard  of  morality  was  higher ;  but  here  was  the 
difficulty,  they  were  building  their  hopes  of  salvation 
on  their  morality,  "  going  about  to  establish  their  own 
righteousness,"  and  refusing  to  submit  themselves  to 
the  righteousness  of  Christ. 

As  is  usual  in  such  cases,  there  were  some  who 
were  regarded  as  "models"  for  their  morality,  and 

among  them  the  subject  of  this  sketch,  L T , 

stood  in  the  front  rank.  He  was  the  youngest  son  of 
his  mother,  "and  shewas  a  widow,"  and  a  devoted 
child  of  God,  who  had  long  prayed  for  the  conversion 
of  her  dear  boy,  so  dutiful  and  affectionate  in  all  the 
relations  of  life. 

In  1843,  the  pastor  felt  called  to  hold  a  "meeting 

of  days;"  but  L did  not  attend,  he  was  away 

from  home.  Having  heard  of  the  meeting,  he  resolved 
to  attend  only  on  the  Sabbath  ;  and  to  avoid  the  solic- 
itations of  his  pious  friends,  he  laid  his  plans  to  be 
absent  from  home  through  the  week  in  a  distant  cedar 
swamp,  procuring  rails.  But  many  hearts  offered  up 
fervent  prayer  to  God  on  his  behalf;  and  the  prodi- 
gal son  was  so  unhappy  in  the  cedar  swamp,  that  he 
was  compelled  to  return  home.  He  then  resolved  not 
to  attend  the  meeting,  but  to  go  down  on  the  "  sound," 
for  the  purpose  of  procuring  fish  and  oysters.  But 
here  he  Avas  more  wretched  than  he  had  been  in  the 


A  MODEL  OF  MORALITY.  19 

woods  ;  the  Spirit  of  God  was  striving  with  him  ;  liis 
sins  began  to  rise  before  liim,  and  to  press  upon  him 
like  mountains.  What  could  he  do  ?  This  man  who 
"had  been  zealous  to  keep  the  law,"  felt  himself  a 
poor  miserable  and  lost  sinner,  ready  to  sink  into 
despair ;  he  fell  upon  his  knees,  and  called  upon  God 
to  have  mercy  upon  him. 

Speedily  he  returned  to  his  mother's  house,  resolv- 
ing to  attend  the  meeting,  and  to  seek  the  salvation 
of  his  soul  Surprised  and  delighted,  we  saw  him 
enter  the  house  of  God  next  morning,  with  sorrow 
written  upon  his  countenance.  Fervent  prayer  was 
offered  to  God  on  his  behalf.  Soon  he  was  found 
among  the  few  inquirers  who  sought  counsel  and  in- 
struction. His  soul  was  bowed  within  him,  his  heart 
was  wrung  with  anguish  ;  and  though  a  large  athletic 
man,  he  wept  like  a  child  and  trembled  in  every  limb. 
We  prayed  with  and  for  him ;  we  directed  his  atten- 
tion to  tlie  cross  of  Christ,  to  the  efficacy  of  his  blood, 
to  his  boundless  compassion,  to  the  riches  of  his  grace ; 
we  besought  him  to  yield  himself  to  Christ,  to  give 
up  every  thing,  and  to  trust  in  his  all-sufficient  merits. 
"  Oh,"  said  he,  "  I  am  such  a  sinner  ;  I  have  sinned  so 
long  against  so  mucli  light,  against  so  much  love.  Oh, 
my  poor  old  mother,  how  I  have  resisted  her  prayers 
and  entreaties.  I  am  ready  to  yield,  I  withhold  noth- 
ing.    0  Lord,  have  mercy  on  me  a  poor  sinner." 

Thus  he  wept,  and  thus  he  prayed.  He  invited 
Christian  friends  home  with  him  ;  they  agonized  to- 
gether around  the  family  altar ;  he  walked  his  cham- 
ber all  the  night,  weeping  and  crying  for  mercy.  In 
tliis  state  of  mind  he  continued  for  several  days,  nei- 
ther eating  or  sleeping :  we  became  apprehensive  that 


80  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

the  violence  of  liis  grief  might  unsettle  his  reason ; 
but  we  could  do  nothing  but  pray  to  God  for  him. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  third  day  of  his  anguish, 
he  felt  that  if  he  did  not  find  relief  soon,  he  must  die. 
He  went  to  the  barn,  ascended  the  haymow,  threw 
himself  upon  his  face,  and  prayed,  but  no  relief  could 
he  find  ;  he  thought  he  had  not  become  humble  enough : 
he  descended  to  the  stable,  where  again  and  again  he 
called  upon  God  to  save  him.  No  response  was  made 
to  his  cry,  but  to  increase  his  anguish,  and  to  drive 
him  still  nearer  to  despair  ;  his  heart  was  ready  to 
break.  "  0  Lord,  what  wilt  thou  have  me  to  do  ?" 
was  his  cry  ;  and  in  ansAver  to  his  own  question,  he 
said,  "  There  is  one  thing  more  I  can  do  :  I  can  pray 
before  my  poor  old  mother."  Strange  as  it  may  seem, 
while  he  was  willing  to  pray  everywhere  else,  he  felt 
that  he  could  not  pray  before  his  pious  mother  ;  but 
now  he  was  willing  to  do  any  thing,  to  do  even  this. 
He  started  to  the  house  ready  to  sink  beneath  his 
load ;  he  opened  the  door,  he  fell  upon  his  knees,  and 
cried,  "0  God!"  and  at  once  his  load  was  removed, 
darkness  vanished,  light  streamed  in,  rapture  filled 
his  soul ;  he  sprang  up,  threw  his  arms  around  his 
mother's  neck,  praising  and  blessing  God  ;  he  was  un- 
speakably happy. 

At  once  he  set  out  to  tell  to  all  around  what  a  dear 
Saviour  he  had  found.  On  the  way  he  met  an  inti- 
mate friend ;  he  threw  his  arms  about  him,  saying, 
"Oh  my  dear  friend,  morality  will  not  do,  you  must 
love  Jesus." 

God  was  now  in  the  midst  of  the  people,  the 
whole  place  was  aroused,  and  the  work  went  on  with 
power ;  between  forty  and  fifty  souls  })rofcsscd  con- 


AN  UNEXPECTED  INQUIRER.  81 

version,  most  of  whom  lived  to  testify  the  gospel  of 
the  grace  of  God. 

The  race  of  L T was  short,  but  while  he 

lived  he  was  a  most  valuable  member  of  the  church.l 
humble,  self-denying,  and  laborious ;  his  light  was 
shed  on  all  around.  He  early  ripened  for  heaven  ; 
cut  down  by  a  fever  in  the  midst  of  his  days,  he  pass- 
ed away  from  the  toils  of  earth  to  the  rest  of  heaven  : 
his  end  was  triumphant ;  his  death-cry  was  victory — 
"victory  through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ."      Davies. 


AN    UNEXPECTED.  INQUIRER. 

One  day,  as  we  were  just  rising  from  the  dinner- 
table,  a  young  man  knocked'  at  the  door.  He  had 
lived  but  a  few  months  in  the  town,  and  my  acquaint- 
ance with  him  was  very  slight  indeed.  I  believe  we 
had  never  spoken  together  but  once,  when  I  was 
making  a  pastoral  visit  to  the  family  in  which  he 
boarded.  The  thing  that  most  struck  me  then  was 
his  extreme  diffidence.  I  was  not  aware  that  any 
particular  impression  had  been  made  on  his  mind. 
Hence,  it  did  not  occur  to  me  that  his  call,  especially 
at  such  an  hour,  was  connected  with  the  state  of  his 
feelings  on  the  subject  of  religion. 

Judge  then  of  my  surprise,  as  he  took  his  seat  by 
the  fire  in  the  midst  of  my  family,  and  looking  up, 
said,  "I  have  come  to  talk  with  you  about  my  soul." 
The  words  thrilled  through  my  heart.*  Such  a  re- 
mark, from  a  modest,  retiring  youth  who  had  never 
entered  our  door  before,  could  not  but  awaken  tender 
emotion.  For  a  few  moments  I  hardly  knew  what  to 
4*      / 


82  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

say.  Soon,  however,  I  found  utterance,  and  in  a  few 
simple  sentences  gave  him  such  direction  as  seemed 
suited  to  his  circumstances.  It  was  a  word  in  season. 
God  had  evidently  been  moving  upon  the  mind  of  the 
diffident  young  man,  and  he  was  in  a  short  time  led  to 
the  knowledge  of  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus.  Years 
passed  away,  but  no  one  had  reason  to  doubt  that  this 
was  a  genuine  conversion. 

Is  there  no  reader  of  these  lines  who  might  be 
benefited  by  such  an  interview  with  his  pastor?  You 
can  imagine  what  it  cost  a  retiring  timid  youth  to 
bring  his  mind  to  make  a  visit  like  this.  But  had  he 
not  done  so,  it  might  have  proved  a  fatal  resistance 
of  the  Holy  Ghost.  The  direction  is,  Seek  the  Lord 
while  he  may  be  found ;  call  upon  him  while  he  is 
near.  And  ministers  are  appointed  to  guide  souls  to 
the  Saviour.  The  young  man  that  takes  such  a  step, 
is  using  means  which  God  may  bless  to  his  spiritual 
and  eternal  good.  Pastor. 


A  MISTAKEN   SINNER. 

Mr.  W had  received  a  religious  education.    I 

resolved  to  call  on  him,  and  use  all  my  influence  as 
his  pastor,  to  persuade  him  to  seek  an  interest  in 
Christ.  He  assured  me  that  there  was  nothing  he  so 
much  desired,  that  he  would  give  all  the  world  to  be 
a  true  Christian;  but  that  he  knew  not  what  more 
could  be  done  than  to  continue  his  attendance  upon 
the  means  of  grace,  and  keep  his  mind  open  to  convic- 
tion. 

I  asked  him  if  lie  had  carried  his  case  before  God 
in  iuiportunato  persevering  prayer. 


A  MISTAKEN  SINNER.  83 

lie  replied,  "  I  have  been  accustomed  to  say  my 
prayers  from  early  childhood.  I  do  not  even  remem- 
Lcr  when  I  began  to  pray,  and  I  never  lay  my  head 
upon  my  pillow  without  saying  my  prayers.  I  hope  I 
am  not  such  a  heathen  as  to  neglect  it." 

"  But,  my  friend,  have  you  taken  up  this  great 
question,  the  conversion  and  salvation  of  your  soul, 
and  carried  it  before  God,  and  pleaded  with  him  ear- 
nestly to  show  you  the  way  of  life  ?" 

"Wliy,  no.  How  could  I?  I  have  no  faitli.  It 
seems  to  me  that  it  would  be  a  sort  of  sacrilege.  The 
sacrifice  of  the  wicked  is  an  abomination  to  the  Lord. 
Is  there  not  such  a  declaration  in  the  Bible?" 

"Yes,  there  is  such  a  statement  in  the  book  of 
Proverbs  ;  but  what  does  it  mean  ?  I  have  no  doubt 
that  the  allusion  is  to  those  who  continue  in  sinful 
Avays,  but  who  say  their  prayers  eitlier  for  the  purpose 
of  deceiving  men,  or  to  quiet  their  consciences  by  set- 
ting off  their  devotions  as  a  compensation  for  contin- 
uing in  wicked  courses.  When  our  Saviour  says, 
'  Enter  into  thy  closet,  and  when  thou  liast  shut  the 
door,  pray  to  thy  Father  who  is  in  secret ;  and  thy 
Father,  who  seeth  in  secret,  shall  reward  thee  openly/ 
he  intends  to  summon  such  as  you  to  the  duty  of  ear- 
nest prayer.  This  exhortation  is  not  made  to  disci- 
ples as  such,  but  to  men  as'  sinners.  Such  a  gospel 
call,  like  the  decalogue,  is  not  designed  for  a  class, 
but  for  all  who  are  really  in  a  state  of  dependence  on 
their  Maker.  So  when  our  Saviour  says,  '  Come  unto 
me,  all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy-laden,  and  I  will 
give  you  rest,'  he  addresses  himself  not  to  the  dis- 
ciples as  being  already  pious,  but  to  all  that  are  in 
want." 


84  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

"  Still,"  rejoined  my  friend,  "  if  I  am  an  uncon- 
verted sinner,  are  not  my  prayers  sinful  ?" 

"  Doubtless,"  I  replied,  "  you  are  a  sinner  while  you 
pray,  but  not  because  you  pray.  You  know  that  uncon- 
verted men  often  send  forth  a  supplicating  cry  when 
in  distress ;  yet  they  do  not  afterwards  accuse  them- 
selves of  wickedness  for  having  cried  to  God  for  help. 
So,  when  the  appeals  of  the  gospel  have  sometimes 
come  home  to  your  own  heart  and  conscience,  and  you 
have  found  yourself  instinctively  sending  up  a  desire 
to  God  for  the  gifts  of  his  grace,  and  promised  your- 
self that  you  would  seek  earnestly  the  salvation  of 
your  soul,  and  yet  the  impression  has  passed  away,  it 
may  be  your  conscience  has  accused  you  of  being 
guilty  for  not  keeping  your  promise,  but  you  do  not 
blame  yourself  for  having  prayed.  You  may  have 
seen  a  sinner  on  his  death-bed,  and  heard  him  utter 
unavailing  cries,  but  I  venture  to  affirm  that  you 
never  thought  of  blaming  such  a  one  for  praying. 

"  That   is   enough,"   said   Mr.    W ,    '•  that   is 

enough.  I  will  never  make  that  objection  again. 
But  after  all,  it  seems  to  me  that  my  prayers  can  do 
no  good.  I  do  not  feel  as  if  I  could  pray.  I  am 
such  a  sinner,  and  yet  have  so  little  sense  of  my  guilt. 
My  prayers  will  not  be  acceptable.  There  will  be  no 
holiness  in  them." 

I  further  replied  to  him,  "  Suppose  here  is  a  young 
man  who  is  like  the  prodigal  of  our  Saviour's  para- 
ble. He  has  abandoned  his  home,  and  is  stubborn  in 
his  ingratitude  to  a  kind  father.  His  fatlier  has  pro- 
posed a  reconciliation.  The  young  man  has  come  so 
near  his  home,  that  his  eyes  often  behold  it.  He  casts 
wishful  glances  towards  it.     He  says  to  me,  as  you 


A  MISTAKEN  SINNER.  85 

say  in  respect  to  becoming  reconciled  to  your  heaven- 
ly Father,  that  he  would  give  all  the  world  if  the 
controversy  between  himself  and  his  father  were  set- 
tled. I  urge  him  to  go  and  present  himself  to  his 
father,  and  ask  his  favor.  lie  hesitates,  and  says,  I 
am  not  in  a  proper  state  of  mind ;  my  father  has  pen- 
etration enough  to  discover  the  least  defect:  if  I 
should  make  a  request  in  this  state  of  mind  it  will  be 
unacceptaljle,  and  I  shall  be  spurned  from  his  pres- 
ence. To  this  I  answer,  your  father  desires  a  recon- 
ciliation. Any  indication  of  a  disposition  on  your 
part  to  return,  interests  him.  Besides,,  how  do  you 
know  but  that  the  very  attempt  to  approach  him  will 
soften  your  heart.  As  you  see  yourself  coming  near 
to  him,  as  your  eye  falls  upon  his  benignant  counte- 
nance and  reads  in  its  expression  a  readiness  to  for- 
give, it  may  have  a  most  subduing  influence  upon  you. 
Come,  I  say  to  him,  come,  go  in  and  present  yourself 
to  your  father.  In  my  earnestness  I  pull  him  by  the 
sleeve,  still  repeating  my  urgent  exhortation.  Inquire 
for  your  father ;  go  to  him.  He  enters,  and  is  seen 
to  put  back  his  hand  and  close  Ihe  door  after  him. 

"  Suppose  now,  my  friend,  you  have  witnessed  this 
interview,  and  seen  the  young  man  enter.  "What  do 
you  expect  will  be  the  result  of  liis  thus  going  to  his 
father  ?  You  perceive,  at  once,  that  there  was  some- 
thing very  ungracious  in  his  reluctance  to  go.  But 
you  expect  to  learn  that  a  reconciliation  has  taken 
place.  If  not  at  once,  you  think  this  may  lead  to 
another  interview,  and  that  ultimately  a  reconcilia- 
tion will  result.  And  may  not  such  be  the  conse- 
quence, if  you  go  to  your  chamber  and  approach  your 
heavenly  Father  in  earnest  prayer?     It  is  most  un- 


86  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

worthy  and  ungrateful  in  you  to  manifest  the  least 
reluctance.     Will  you  do  it?" 

"  You  have  satisfied  me/.'  lie  replied,  "  that  I  ought 
to  do  it.     But  how  can  such  a  man  as  I  am  pray  ?" 

"  Go  and  try.  Go  with  humble  trust  that  God, 
througli  the  merits  of  Christ,  will  meet  you  as  a  for- 
giving Father." 

"But  how  can  I?  Must  there  not  be  a  divine 
influence  ?" 

"  Yes ;  but  is  there  no  divine  influence  now  acting 
on  your  heart  and  conscience?  Do  not  resist  the 
Holy  Ghost.  Do  what  you  confess  your  conscience 
urges  you  to  do." 

We  parted.  '  He  went  to  his  home,  and  I  to  mine. 

I  was  engaged  in  prayer  for  him.    A  gentle  tap  on 

my  door  called  me  to  open  it.     It  was  W .     His 

lips  were  quivering  with  emotion,  and  his  eyes  stream- 
ing with  tears.     "  Can  you  sing?"  said  he. 

"Yes,  come  in.     Did  you  go  home  to  pray?" 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  "  I  went  resolving  that  I  would  go 
to  my  chamber  to  pray.  It  seemed  strange.  As  I 
walked  up  the  stairs,  I  said  to  myself,  it  is  strange. 
I  am  going  to  my  chamber  to  pray.  Shall  such  a  man 
as  I  am  pray  ?  Yes,  I  am  going  to  my  chamber  to 
pray.  I  opened  the  door.  I  had  no  more  than  begun, 
when  the  room  seemed  full  of  light ;  and  I  could  only 
praise  God  for  his  mercy  in  Jesus  Christ  to  a  poor 
unworthy  sinner." 

We  sung  the  praises  of  God  together,  wondering 
at  the  richness  and  freeness  of  divine  grace.  A  quar- 
ter of  a  century  has  elapsed  since  the  conversion  of 

W ,  and  the  result  has  confirmed  my  conviction, 

that  it  is  right  to  direct  a  sinner  to  go  to  God  in 


THE  BLIND  PREACHER.  87 

prayer,  in  the  name  of  Clyist ;  and  that  plain  gospel 
appeals  to  individuals,  are  among  the  most  effective 
modes  of  preaching.  p.  J. 


THE  BLIND  PREACHER. 

The  Eev.  Dr.  James  Waddel  was  as  eloquent  in 
private  conversation  as  in  the  pulpit.  He  was  very 
communicative,  and  in  the  company  of  young  persons, 
would  go  on  for  a  quarter,  or  sometimes  half  an  hour, 
in  the  most  animated  and  delightful  discourse ;  and, 
on  the  subject  of  practical  and  experimental  religion, 
these  discourses  were  most  edifying.  I  never  heard 
him  preach  but  once,  and  that  was  when  he  was 
perfectly  blind.  The  subject  was  the  parable  of  the 
Pharisee  and  the  Publican.  This  passage  of  Scrip- 
ture was  repeated  by  him  with  perfect  accuracy,  and 
the  discourse  was  masterly.  The  description  of  the 
Pharisee  was  striking,  and  in  some  respects  new  to 
me,  as  he  exhibited  him  according  to  the  character 
which  he  had  among  the  people  who  had  no  suspicion 
of  his  hypocrisy,  but  venerated  him  as  a  man  of  su- 
perior sanctity  and  elevated  devotion.  His  manner 
was  not  harsh,  but  highly  animated.  This  was  true 
of  all  his  conversation.  Whenever  he  discoursed  on 
any  subject,  he  entered  into  it  with  his  whole  soul. 

While  Dr.  Waddel  was  settled  in  Lancaster  coun- 
ty, in  Virginia,  he  was  visited  by  Mr.  Whitefield,  who 
spent  a  week  in  that  region,  preaching,  as  usual,  very 
frequently,  and  with  amxizing  power,  and  leaving  be- 
hind him  many  fruits  of  his  ministry.  But  the  gen- 
tlemen connected  with  Dr.  Waddcl's  congregation 
greatly  preferred  the  style  of  eloquence  with  which 


88  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

their  pastor  had  made  them  familiar,  to  the  more  fer- 
vid oratory  of  Whitefield.  I  once  heard  the  cele- 
brated Patrick  Henry ;  and  my  opinion  is,  that  Mr. 
Henry's  eloquence  was  better  adapted  to  produce  its 
effect  on  the  great  body  of  the  people,  and  Dr.  Wad- 
del's  most  suited  to  persons  of  education  and  refine- 
ment. 

He  was  a  man  of  most  affectionate  disposition,  and 
in  his  treatment  of  strangers  was  remarkably  cour- 
teous. In  the  expression  of  his  own  opinions,  he  was 
as  free  and  independent  as  any  man  I  ever  knew. 
Whatever  sentiments  he  entertained  he  would  express 
with  perfect  freedom  on  all  occasions,  however  they 
might  differ  from  those  of  the  persons  with  whom  he 
conversed.  In  his  person  he  was  tall  and  very  slen- 
der. At  home  he  wore  a  white  linen  cap ;  in  the  pul- 
pit a  full-bottomed  wig — which  was  the  custom  of  the 
clergy  in  his  day.  He  was  disposed  to  treat  with 
great  respect  those  who  differed  from  him,  even  though 
he  might  consider  them  as  holding  serious  errors ; 
neither,  in  matters  of  practical  religion,  did  he  make 
a  man  an  offender  for  a  word.  Always  exemplary  in 
his  life,  he  was  as  far  as  possible  from  pharisaic  pre- 
cision, and  never  frowned  upon  the  truly  innocent 
enjoyments  of  the  young.  There  was  great  natural- 
ness, as  well  as  great  dignity,  pervading  his  whole 
demeanor. 


A  DYING  GIRL.  89 


HOLY  OBEDIENCE. 


A  DYING   GIRL. 

Not  long  since,  a  pastoi'  whose  parish  lay  among 
the  hills  of  New  England,  entered  his  study  one  Sab- 
bath evening  with  great  heaviness  of  heart. 

He  had  been  unusually  interested  in  the  labors  of 
the  day,  and  had  spoken  with  great  tenderness  of 
feeling,  and  with  an  energy  that  surprised  him.  His 
discourses  had  been  prefaced  in  prayer.  They  were 
delivered  to  his  congregation  with  an  earnest  desire 
that  they  might  deeply  stir  the  souls  of  those  who 
listened,  and  incline  them  in  the  way  of  life. 

His  own  heart  was  warmed  and  quickened  in 
spiritual  things,  for  God  was  leading  him  through  the 
furnace  of  severe  affliction,  bringing  darkness  upon 
his  home  and  heart  by  the  ravages  of  disease  and 
death ;  and  this  way  in  which  God  was  leading  him 
was  good  for  him,  though  every  step  was  attended 
witli  anguish  of  spirit ;  it  led  to  the  tln^one  of  God, 
and  brought  his  soul  into  blessed  communion  with  the 
only  adequate  and  satisfying  good. 

At  the  close  of  the  services  in  the  evening,  as  ho 
looked  over  the  assembly,  it  seemed  to  him  that  the 
solemn  truths  which  he  had  been  communicating  had 
failed  in  doing  service — they  had  not  reached  the 
heart — he  had  been  preaching  in  vain.  He  was  over- 
come, and  pronounced  tlie  benediction  with  a  tremu- 
lous voice.  He  hastened  to  his  home ;  thick  darkness 
came  over  him,  his  faith  was  exceedingly  small.    That 


90  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

night  was  a  restless  one,  sleep  departed  from  him,  and 
he  was  sorely  troubled  in  the  multitude  of  his  tlioughts 
which  there  rolled  tumultuously  over  him  :  "  It  was  of 
no  use  for  him  to  preach.  His  labors  were  not  blessed. 
God  had  not  called  him  to  the  work  of  the  ministry, 
else  he  would  favor  him  with  more  frequent  and  sig- 
nal tokens  of  his  gracious  presence  and  power." 
Should  he  abandon  his  chosen  profession  ?  It  might 
bo  well  to  do  so. 

The  morning  came,  but  the  cloud  had  not  with- 
drawn ;  there  it  hung,  with  its  dark  folds  obscuring 
his  whole  sky.  He  could  never  preach  again — this 
was  for  other  men,  not  for  him. 

But  suddenly  he  was  called  to  visit  a  young  girl 
who  was  rapidly  sinking  to  the  grave.  She  sent  a 
special  request  for  him.  He  hastened  to  her  bedside, 
and  found  her  sweetly  confiding  in  Jesus  as  her  Sav- 
iour, and  God  as  her  friend. 

As  the  pastor  held  tliat  fevered  hand  in  his,  and 
listened  to  that  sick  girl's  story,  how  did  his  darkness 
clear  up,  and  what  tears  of  repentance  and  joy  fell 
from  his  eyes! 

Some  weeks  before,  she  had  heard  him  preach  on 
the  duty  of  immediate  submission  to  God.  This  ser- 
mon, through  the  blessing  of  God,  led  her  to  convic- 
tion, which  resulted  in  her  conversion.  As  she  told 
this  to  the  pastor,  her  face  gleamed  with  sacred  joy, 
as  if  light  shone  thereon  from  the  throne  of  God  and 
the  Lamb.  She  felt  that  her  sickness  was  unto  death, 
and  was  strongly  desirous  of  being  received  to  the  com- 
munion of  saints  on  earth,  that  she  might  take  at  the 
hands  of  that  pastor  the  sacramental  bread  and  cup. 

After  several  satisfactory  interviews,  it  was  dc- 


A  DYING  GlllL  <Ji 

cided  to  receive  her  into  the  visible  cliurcli.  This 
was  done  one  briglit  Sabbath  morning  in  August ;  the 
sky  was  serenely  fair,  and  the  air  vocal  with  the  mel- 
ody of  birds.  In  the  presence  of  a  few  friends,  the 
young  and  dying  disciple  gave  herself  to  Christ  in 
the  act  of  public  consecration.  There  were  tears  in 
that  parlor  on  that  briglit  summer  morning,  and  no 
one  felt  more  deeply  than  tliat  pastor.  J^  sweet  smile 
rested  on  those  features  of  the  dying  one  ;  and  when 
asked,  at  the  close  of  the  ordinance,  if  she  was  fa- 
tigued, she  replied,  "  0  no,  I  have  had  such  satisfac- 
tion, and  have  been  so  happy."  A  few  days  after,  she 
calmly  fell  asleep,  and  we  believe  that  she  is.  now 
white-robed  among  the  angels  of  God,  with  "  the  gen- 
eral assembly  and  church  of  the  first-born.'' 

That  pastor  often  visited  her  grave,  and  as  he 
stood  by  that  grassy  mound,  he  rejoiced  "with  joy 
unspeakable  and  full  of  glory"  at  the  thought  of 
meeting  her  on  mount  Sion,  as  one  whom  God  in  infi- 
nite mercy  has  given  him  as  a  seal  of  his  ministry. 
It  was  enough  that  he  had  been  instrumental  of  saving 
one  soul,  and  while  he  strove  to  win  more,  he  strug- 
gled against  falling  into  that  slough  of  desponding 
thouglit  to  which  allusion  has  been  made. 

The  ministers  of  Christ  should  not  be  discour- 
aged— they  are  God's  laborers,  and  he  will  let  none 
of  their  words  fall  to  the  ground.  They  do  not 
always  know  the  amount  of  good  they  are  accom- 
plishing ;  it  is  not  best  they  should.  They  have  their 
gracious  reward  in  another  world.  Let  them  bide 
God's  time,  and  not  be  weary  in  well-doing ;  for  in 
due  season  they  shall  reap,  if  they  faint  not. 

F.  B.  w. 


92  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

A  TEMPTED   YOUNG  MAN. 

In  the  year  1845,  there  lived  in  F ,  New  York, 

a  young  man  about  seventeen  years  old.  Trained  in 
the  Sabbath-school,  his  knowledge  of  duty  was  too 
great  and  the  voice  of  conscience  too  strong  to  allow 
him  to  indulge  in  an  open  course  of  wickedness,  to 
which  his  heart  was  by  no  means  opposed.  He  was 
frequently  moved  to  tears  by  the  sorrows  of  his  fel- 
low-men, but  the  goodness  of  God,  his  wonderful  kind- 
ness and  mercy,  had  never  impressed  his  heart.  He 
had  always  regarded  God  as  a  holy  and  pure  being, 
who  hated  sin,  and  therefore  must  hate  him.  This  led 
him  to  hate  God's  perfections,  and  to  dread  his  power. 

At  this  time  a  plain,  instructive  discourse  of  his 
pastor,  showing  the  nature  of  sin,  the  justice  of  God 
in  its  punishment,  and  the  way  opened  by  Christ,  in 
which  God  may  be  "just,  and  the  justifier  of  him  who 
believetli  in  Jesus,"  disclosed  to  him  the  riches  of  the 
divine  method  of  the  sinner's  salvation.  He  saw  and 
felt  the  enormity  of  sin,  as  committed  against  the 
mercy  of  God ;  and  while  his  heart  broke  in  repent- 
ance, he  felt  that  Christ  was  able  and  willing  to  save 
him  from  his  guilt  and  reconcile  him  to  God ;  and 
placing  his  trust  in  his  Redeemq^',  his  mind  calmed 
into  love  and  confidence,  with  a  peaceful  assurance  of 
God's  forgiveness.  Such  is  the  blessing  that  may 
attend  the  plain  and  faithful  preaching  of  the  great 
doctrines  of  the  cross. 

The  conversion  of  this  young  man  was  thorough, 
but  there  remained  one  step  to  manifest  its  sincerity — 
his  publicly  uniting  with  the  church.  Here  Satan  ad- 
vanced** to  contest  the  movement.     The  communion- 


A  TEMPTED  YOUNG  MAN.  93 

season  was  approaching,  the  invitation  to  meet  the 
officers  of  the  church  was  given  out,  and  the  young 
man  was  considering  the  duty  of  presenting  himself, 
when  the  evil  thought  was  suggested,  "  Perhaps  you 
do  not  rightly  understand  your  situation  and  the  na- 
ture of  your  recent  feelings  ;  perhaps  you  will  be  bet- 
ter prepared  if  you  wait  until  the  next  occasion.''  He 
waited.  Again  he  considered  the  point,  but  with  less 
inclination  to  duty,  and  Satan  suggested,  "  Remember 
how  inconsistent  it  would  be  to  make  a  profession  of 
religion  after  your  conduct  of  last  Thursday."  Yes, 
last  Thursday's  conduct  was  inconsistent,  and  again 
he  must  wait.  In  this  manner  season  after  season 
went  round;  until  for  four  years  this  young  man  was 
Icept  away  from  the  precious  privileges  of  the  true 
Christian.  He  had  not  yet  been  able  to  take  up  the 
cross. 

At  length  another  plain  discourse  of  his  pastor 
upon  these  very  suggestions  of  Satan,  and  the  effect 
which  they  produced  upon  the  converted,  but  linger- 
ing, hesitating  sinner,  disclosed  the  true  nature  of 
these  suggestions,  and  the  only  manner  in  which  to 
overcome  them,  which  was  by  resolving  to  perform 
every  duty,  however  trying,  in  humble  dependence 
upon  God,  seeking  his  assistance  in  sincere  and  ear- 
nest prayer.  By  this  he  was  instructed,  and  as  the 
communion-season  again  approached,  receiving  in  an- 
swer to  prayer  the  assurance  that  Christ  was  with 
him,  he  was  enabled  to  present  himself  as  a  candidate 
for  admission ;  and  after  passing  a  full,  but  most 
kindly  conducted  examination,  was  received  to  full 
communion,  and  joined  in  the  commemoration  of  his 
Saviour's  death. 


94  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

There  may  be  otlicrs  in  the  state  of  this  young 
man  at  some  portion  of  his  career.  His  advice  is, 
that  you  go  to  your  pastor,  and  disclose  to  him  your 
state  of  feeling.  He  loves  you,  although  you  may  not 
think  so,  and  he  will  be  able  to  instruct  you  how  to 
avoid  this  young  man's  errors,  which  caused  him  to 
lose  four  precious  years  of  Christian  peace  and  active 
usefulness,  upon  which  loss  he  will  ever  look  with 
regret.  The  writer  and  your  adviser  is  that  young 
man.  R. 


NANCY  AND   HER  PASTOR. 

MY  FIRST  VISIT. 

I  had  been  reading  Baxter's  Saints'  Rest.  I  had 
studied  that  part  of  it  that  describes  the  condition  of 
those  who  lose  that  rest.  My  soul  burned  within  me. 
I  had  an  indescribable  desire  to  do  something  to  save 
the  impenitent  from  that  condition.  I  fdt  my  com- 
mission from  the  Most  High  renewed ;  that  my  com- 
mission as  a  messenger  from  God  to  sinners  was  as 
good  as  any  angel's.  I  visited  the  house  of  two 
ladies  who  had  for  a  long  time  supported  themselves 
with  their  needles.  The  elder  one  was  a  professor, 
but  the  younger  had  no  hope.  "  If  you  should  die  as 
you  are,"  said  I,  "  do  you  tliink  you  should  go  to  dwell 
with  Christ  in  heaven?"  "I  suppose  I  should  not," 
replied  the  younger.  "  How  then  can  you  rest  until 
you  have  made  your  peace  with  God?  If  you  were 
doomed  to  hell  only  for  twenty-four  hours,  and  tears 
and  cries  could  rescue  you,  you  would  weep  day  and 
night  until  the  pardon  came."  Then  turning  to  the 
older  sister,  I  said,  "  I  will  pray  with  you,  if  you  have 


NANCY  AND  HER  PASTOR.  Of) 

no  objections."  '•  None,  none/*  said  she  ;  "  I  desire 
it."  I  took  f»oni  my  pocket  my  Bible,  and  after  read- 
ing, I  commended  them  to  God,  praying  for  the  young- 
er especially.  As  I  arose,  I  saw  that  she  turned  away 
her  face,  as  if  to  conceal  her  tears. 

MV  SECOND  VISIT. 

She  wished  to  get  me  upon  some  puzzling  doctrine. 
"  IIow  do  you  understand  tkction  V  she  said.  "  In 
this  way,"  said  I :  "if  you  ever  are  so  happy  as  to  get 
to  heaven,  you  will  give  all  the  glory  to  God.  But  if 
you  go  to  despair,  you  will  bear  the  blame  for  ever." 
A  solemn  pause  ensued.  "Well,  I  do  not  see,"  she 
continued,  *'  that  /  can  do  any  thing."  "  There  is  one 
thing,"  said  I,  "  you  can  do.  You  can  go  on  in  sin,  as 
you  have  done;  grieve  the  Holy  Spirit;  put  off  the 
matter  until  death  overtakes  you.  Then,  if  you  per- 
ish, will  God  be  to  blame?"  A  pause  again.  "I 
have  tried  a  great  many  times,"  she  said,  "  to  find 
what  you  recommend,  but  I  have  come  to  the  conclu- 
sion that  all  my  efforts  are  an  abomination  in  the 
sight  of  God."  "  Well,'"  said  I,  "  if  your  prayers  arc 
offensive  to  God,  how  do  you  think  the  rest  of  your 
life  appears  in  his  sight?"  She  wept,  and  her  sister 
wc})t.  Then  I  took  her  Bible  from  the  stand,  and 
read  the  parable  of  the  prodigal  son,  applying  every 
point  of  it  to  her  as  I  went  on.  I  went  to  prayer. 
Both  of  them  fell  on  their  knees.  After  prayer  they 
said,  "  Call  again."  The  next  Sabbath  they  walked 
a  long  way  to  find  our  meeting.  As  I  reasoned  of  sin 
and  of  righteousness,  the  older  one  prayed  and  the 
other  trembled. 


96  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

MY   THIKD   VISIT. 

"  I  saw  you  last  evening  at  the  prayer-meeting.  I 
■was  glad  to  sec  you:  and  now,  Nancy,"'  said  I,  "have 
you  given  that  hard  heart  to  Christ  ?"  "  I  fear  not,'' 
she  said,  and  covered  her  face  in  her  handkerchief. 
Then  her  sister  spoke,  and  said,  "  She  thinks  she  has 
done  all  she  can.  I  have  told  her  every  thing  that  I 
can  tliink  of,  but  she  has  remained  right  there.     She 

has  said  over  and  over  again,  how  I  wish  Mr.  ■ 

would  come."  "  Yes,"  said  I,  "  and  as  soon  as  ever  I 
knocked,  she  asked  me  in  :  but  my  Saviour  may  knock 
at  her  door  all  day  and  all  night,  '  until  his  head  is 
filled  with  the  dew,  and  his  locks  with  the  drops  o.f 
the  night,'  but  she  keeps  her  door  locked  against  him." 
I  took  my  hat  and  went  out  to  a  solitary  place,  and 
tliere  that  poor  sinner  was  by  no  means  forgotten. 
But  she  thought  then  that  she  was  lost — that  I  de- 
spaired of  such  a  wretch  as  she  was.-  In  a  few  hours 
I  went  in  again.  Every  tear  was  dried.  She  looked 
despair  itself.  She  wanted  to  know  if  I  had  given 
her  up.  I  told  her,  "No.  But  there  is  a  work  be- 
tween you  and  God  that  I  cannot  do.  I  have  prayed 
for  you,  and  shall  continue  so  to  do."  '"But  can  I 
give  my  heart  to  God  now  ?"  she  asked.  "  Why  not?" 
said  I.  "  Cannot  you  love  God,  and  commit  your  soul 
to  Christ?  Has  he  not  done  enough  for  you?  What 
objection  have  you  to  loving  and  trusting  in  a  kind 
Redeemer,  who  has  bled  on  Calvary  for  the  chief  of 
sinners  ?"  "  It  is  my  hard  heart :  I  know  I  am  a 
hardened  sinner,"  slie  said.  "But,"  said  I,  "you  arc 
a  greater  sinner  than  you  are  aware.  If  you  should 
see  all  your  heart  in  the  light  of  God's  law,  you 
could  not  live.     You  would  sink.     But  Ciirist  is  as 


NANCY  AND   HER  PASTOR.  97 

great  a  Saviour  as  you  arc  a  sinner."     I  prayed  and 
left  them. 

MY  NEXT  VISIT. 

"Well,  Nancy,  I  have  come  once  more  to  see  if 
that  hard  heart  relents.  Do  you  keep  up  your  rebel- 
lion against  God  ?"  "  I  fear  I  do.  I  have  done  every 
thing  I  can.  It  all  does  no  good.  I  fear  I  am  given 
over  for  ever.'*'  "  This  acknowledgment  turned  into 
a  prayer,  would  be  a  good  one,"  said  I.  "  Go  and 
say,  0  Lord,  I  am  a  desperate  sinner.  I  have  gone 
this  way  and  that,  and  am  only  in  the  dark.  My  feet 
are  in  'the  horrible  pit  and  miry  clay,'  and  every 
struggle  only  sinks  me  the  deeper.  I  am  sinking. 
Lord  save;'! perish.  Other  sinners,"  said  I,  "  are  one 
after  another  coming  in,  and  here  you  are  fighting 
against  God.  He  is  more  willing  to  pardon  you,  than 
you  are  to  repent.  Why  not  repent,  and  believe  in 
Christ?" 

THE  CRISIS  PASSED. 

I  knocked.  Nancy  was  at  the  door.  She  took 
me  by  the  hand.  Tears  stood  in  her  eyes ;  but  a  par- 
tial smile  shone  through  them,  like  the  sun  after  a 
shower,  shining  through  the  last  rain-drops.  "  IIow  is 
your  mind  this  morning?"  To  describe  her  mind,  she 
gave  me  the  hymn,  "Rock  of  ages,  cleft  for  meJ' 
"  Can  you  accept  that  first  line?"  said  I.  "I  think  I 
can."  "  Does  the  Saviour  seem  near  and  precious?" 
"0,  'the  chiefest  among  ten  thousand;'  but  I  have 
not  as  much  light  as  I  could  wish."  "  Hav'n't  you 
as  much  as  you  deserve  ?"  said  I.  "  0  yes  ;  more," 
"Walk  softly,  then,"  said  I,  "and  rejoice  with  trem- 
bling." 

SkcfcI.es  5 


98  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

THE  COMMUNION. 

She  was  there  and  looked  on.  She  looked  at  the 
bread  and  wine.  She  thouglit  on  Calvary,  and  on  the 
resurrection.  She  had  loved  her  money ;  but  now 
she  was  ready  for  the  contribution.  She  wanted  to 
do  something  for  the  missionaries ;  and  every  time 
there  was  an  opportunity  to  help  the  Tract  Society, 
she  did  it.  Now  she  is  on  missionary  ground,  where 
her  tender  sympathy  and  her  benevolence  have  room 
for  action.  When  her  sister  was  pining  on  her  death- 
bed, it  seemed  hard  for  them  to  part ;  but  after  she 
had  gone  home,  Nancy  had  nothing  more  to  give  up. 
She  bade  farewell  to  friends,  and  the  dear  church  she 
joined,  for  a  home  among  strangers.  .     s.  M. 


A    FAKMEJl'S   DAUGHTER. 

In  the  autumn  of  18 —  I  spent  a  week  with  friends 

at  their  beautiful  country-seat,  on  the river.    The 

avenue  to  the  house  crosses  a  spacious  meadow,  skirts 
a  ravine  partly  concealed  by  a  thicket  of  evergreens 
and  forest-trees,  and  winds  around  among  beds  of 
perpetual  roses  and  flowering  shrubs,  to  the  broad 
verandah  of  my  friends'  abode.  The  prospect  tow- 
ards the  river  is  charming.  A  natural  terrace,  with 
ample  lawns  and  parks,  threaded  by  shady  paths,  form 
the  foreground.  In  the  distance,  villages  with  their 
church  spires  and  domes  ;  farms  cultivated  to  the 
water's  edge ;  the  glassy  river,  with  here  and  there 
a  vessel  or  a  steamer  to  give  life  to  the  picture ;  and 
the  immense  mountain  ranges,  which  constitute  the 
background  of  the  whole,  present  a  scene  of  great 
loveliness  and  grandeur. 


A  FARMER'S  DAUGHTER.  99 

It  is  the  fit  residence  of  an  intelligent  wealthy 
and  benevolent  Christian  family.  Were  it  proper  to 
delineate  the  admirable  mode  of  instruction  at  morn- 
ing prayers  ;  the  cheerful  religious  conversation,  in- 
terspersed with  anecdotes  gatliered  from  world-wide 
travel  and  extensive  reading ;  the  ingenious  plans  for 
blending  amusement  and  instruction  for  the  evening 
hours ;  the  mild,  yet  strict  control  of  children ;  the 
generous-hearted  hospitality — it  would  furnish  a  pic- 
ture of  a  refined  Christian  household  on  which  wealthy 
worldlings  and  envious  agrarians  might  gaze  with 
profit.  All  titled  or  purse-proud  aristocracy  is  con- 
temptible, compared  with  the  nobility  of  grace. 

This  lovely  family,  though  reared  in  the  circles  of 
fashion,  and  related  to  the  elite  of  the  land,  have  been 
taught  of  God  to  respect  true  worth  in  every  station, 
and  to  regard  piety  of  heart  and  purity  of  life  as  the 
passport  to  confidence  and  affection.  Among  the 
number  of  those  who  shared  their  affectionate  inter- 
est, was  f/ie  farmer's  daughter  whose  brief  history  will 
occupy  the  remainder  of  this  sketch. 

My  friends  were  very  ready  to  gratify  the  curios- 
ity their  frequent  allusions  had  awakened,  and  took 
us  in  their  carriage  one  afternoon  to  the  home  of  Miss 

.     The  house,  which  is  nearly  three  miles  from 

town,  is  hardly  visible  from  the  road.  Around  the 
turnpike-gate,  where  the  lane  to  her  father's  house 
diverges  from  the  highway,  are  clustered  several  small 
dwellings,  occupied  by  poor  white  and  colored  fam- 
ilies. The  appearance  of  the  neighborhood  is  not 
unlike  thousands  of  those  intermediate  settlements, 
found  all  over  the  country,  presenting  the  aspect  of 
poverty  and  neglect.    Too  small  to  sustain  churches ; 


100  SKETCHES  PROM  LIFE. 

too  distant  to  admit  of  convenient  attendance  on  tlie 
means  of  grace  in  the  towns  on  either  side ;  too  care- 
less to  invite  the  labors  of  religious  teachers  around 
them,  these  half-village,  half-rural  settlements  are  the 
waste  places  of  Zion — the  strong-holds  of  Satan. 

The  small  farm-house  which  we  found  at  the  end 
of  the  lane,  was  plain  and  neat.     We  were  received 

by  Miss with  great  cordiality.     Her  dress  was 

simple  and  appropriate;  her  manner  ingenuous  and 
unaffected ;  and  her  conversation  was  unconstrained 
and  highly  spiritual — though  betraying  sufficient  de- 
fects in  early  education  to  excite  our  wonder  at  her 
present  attainments  in  divine  knowledge. 

During  our  conversation,  I  expressed  a  desire  to 
know  something  of  the  manner  of  her  conversion. 
"  What  was  it,"  I  inquired,  "  that  led  you  to  the 
cross?"    "  Sin!"  she  replied.     "  Our  house  used  to  be 

a  very  wicked  place.     The  young  people  from 

were  in  the  habit  of  coming  out  here  to  dance  and 
play  cards.  I  was  a  very  wild  girl.  One  night  in 
February,  eleven  years  ago,  a  gay,  noisy  party  were 
here,  and  there  was  music  and  dancing.  They  be- 
came very  boisterous,  began  throwing  the  plates  about 
in  their  frolic,  and  behaved  very  badly.  In  the  midst 
of  the  noise  and  confusion  I  sat  down  by  my  sister, 
and  said,  'Sister,  what  do  you  tliink  of  all  this?' 
'  I  'ra  tired  of  it ;  a'n't  you  ?'  she  replied.  '  Yes  ;  and 
I  mean  to  live  a  different  life.'  I  thought  of  the  sad 
prospect  before  me  if  I  should  die  that  night ;  and  I 
determined  to  seek  the  Lord,  and  perish,  if  perish  I 
must,  at  the  foot  of  the  cross." 

"  But  had  you  no  previous  religious  impressions  ?" 
I  inquired. 


A  FARMER'S  DAUGHTER.  101 

"  Yes ;  three  years  before  that  ball,  when  at  the 
West,  I  Avas  under  conviction  for  sin,  and  there  was 
much  prayer  for  me  in  a  revival  of  religion.  I  began 
then  to  study  the  Bible  ;  but  I  returned  home  soon 
after,  and  our  house  was  such  a  wild  place  that  I 
could  not  read  except  on  the  Sabbath.  I  had  nearly 
read  the  Bible  through,  when  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord 
met  mc  at  the  ball  I  spoke  of.     The  pastor  of  the 

church  at soon  heard  what  was  passing  in  our 

family,  and  came  to  sec  us  ;  but  I  feared  it  was  noth- 
ing but  excitement,  and  knew  that  I  must  repent  be- 
fore the  Lord  for  myself;  sa  I  refused  to  see  him. 
Five  members  of  our  family  were  rejoicing  in  the  hope 
of  pardoning  mercy  within  two  months  of  that  peri- 
od ;  but  I  was  the  last  of  the  five  to  yield  to  the 
claims  of  God  and  take  refuge  in  Christ  Jesus." 

"  Why  were  you  the  last  to  give  your  heart  to  the 
Saviour?"'  I  asked. 

"  Oh,  I  was  so  jealous  of  myself,"  she  replied,  "  I 
did  not  dare  to  hope." 

"  Were  your  convictions  deep  ?" 

"  They  were  overwhelming.  I  saw  that  I  was  a 
great  sinner — all  vileness  and  pollution.  My  heart 
seemed  a  fountain  of  corruption." 

"  Have  you  enjoyed  constant  peace  since  you  began 
to  hope  ?" 

"  Yes ;  although  I  have  had  occasional  doubts,  my 
peace  has  been  like  a  river.  I  have  not  known  what 
it  was  to  be  free  from  bodily  suffering  for  years;  yet 
I  have  not  lacked  divine  support,  and  I  don't  see  how 
I  could  have  lived  through  my  trials  but  for  the  grace 
of  God  and  the  hopes  of  the  gospel." 

"  I  love  the  word  of  God !".  she  exclaimed  in  this 


102  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

connection ;  and  her  features  lit  up  with  a  smile  that 
•was  full  of  spiritual  joy,  as  the  conversation  turned 
upon  the  Bible.  In  reply  to  the  question  as  to  the  fre- 
quency and  manner  of  reading  it,  she  informed  us  that 
she  had  ^'read  the  Bible  through  several  times  on  her 
knees  before  GodJ^  "I  have  meditated  the  Scriptures 
through  three  times,"  said  she,  "  with  the  exception, 
for  the  third  time,  of  the  last  eight  chapters  of  the 
book  of  Revelation." 

"  Do  you  mean,  Miss  ,  by  '  meditating '  the 

Bible  through,  that  you  have  read  distinct  passages, 
and  meditated  on  them  at  the  time  of  reading?" 

"No,"  she  replied;  "it  has  become  so  familiar 
that  I  don't  need  to  do  that.  I  recall  the  historical, 
biographical,  or  prophetical  portions  of  God's  book, 
in  the  order  they  stand,  and  bring  all  the  incidents  to 
mind,  and  then  trace  out  the  connections  of  the  scene 
or  event  before  me  with  other  and  parallel  passages 
in  the  word  of  God.  I  take  Genesis,  and  think  of  all 
that  is  recorded  there  ;  then  Exodus,  etc.  One  book 
of  the  Pentateuch  will  last  me  two  or  three  months 
in  subjects  for  meditation.  What  a  beautiful  book 
Deuteronomy  is !  Then  I  take  the  Psalms  and  the 
prophets,  etc. ;  and  in  this  way  I  meditate  through 
the  Bible.  I  do  not  generally  attempt  to  commit  the 
words,  but  try  to  make  the  scenes,  characters,  inci- 
dents, and  events  all  my  own.  Ezekiel  is  delightful. 
Sometimes,  when  meditating  some  of  the  visions,  types, 
or  seals,  I  seem  half  taken  to  heaven.  I  think  the 
last  nine  chapters  of  Ezekiel  are  the  most  diflBcult  to 
understand  in  all  God's  book."  Turning  to  her  friend, 
she  inquired  with  aflectionate  interest,  "  You  meditate 
in  this  way,  do  you  not,  Mrs.  ?     You'll  be  a 


A  FARMER'S  DAUGHTER.  103 

groAving  Christian  if  you  do.  And  there  is  no  lost 
time ;  one  can  be  thinking  of  the  exodus,  or  of  the 
oiTcring  of  Isaac,  or  of  the  captivity,  when  about 
liousehold  duties." 

"  Let  me  inquire,  Miss ,  if  you  read  a  com- 
mentary with  the  prophetical  writings?" 

"  Not  now,"  she  replied ;  '"  I  liave  read  the  Com- 
prehensive Commentary  until  I  have  learned  the 
views  of  the  different  writers.  I  find  so  many  opin- 
ions expressed,  that  it  is  rather  confusing.  So  I  con- 
fine my  reading  now  chiefly  to  Scott,  or  meditate  on 
the  prophecies  till  I  understand  them,  with  what  light 
1  have  received  from  the  helps  I  have  enjoyed,  and 
from  above." 

"But  do  you  not  find  the  New  Testament  most 
profitable  and  delightful  of  all  ?" 

"Yes;  the  Old  Testament,  however,  explains  the 
New,  and  makes  it  clear.  The  types  and  prophecies 
relating  to  the  Saviour  are  so  striking,  and  their  ful- 
filment so  complete,  that  you  cannot  understand  the 
New  Testament  fully  without  them.  I  love  the  whole 
of  the  word  of  God.  Matthew  and  John  are  my 
favorite  evangelists — though  you  can  find  all  of  Mat- 
thew, with  the  exception  of  thirty-eight  verses,  in  the 
other  gospels.  Then  there  is  so  much  in  Luke !  It  is 
a  beautiful  gospel  to  meditate  upon.  All  of  the  Bible 
is  beautiful." 

She  conversed  in  this  strain  for  an  hour,  as  natu- 
rally as  one  would  speak  of  the  common  affairs  of 
life.  How  precious  did  the  Bible  seem,  as  the  daily, 
hourly  companion  of  this  humble,  suffering  disciple — 
its  lessons  of  wisdom  her  constant  study  ;  its  consola- 
tions her  perpetual  support ;  its  joys  her  only  pos- 


104  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE, 

session ;  its  hopes  her  abundant  and  everlasting  rc- 
■ward  !  Alas  for  the  folly  of  those  who  possess,  but 
undervalue  or  neglect  the  Avord  of  God ;  the  blind- 
ness of  those  who  reject  its  divine  claims  ;  the  wick- 
edness of  those  who  withhold  it  from  the  poor.  Could 
any  book  of  man  become  to  the  farmer's  daughter 
what  the  Bible  is  ? 

"We  were  impressed  with  the  facility  and  artless- 
ness  with  which  a  personal,  practical  inquiry  was 
thrown  out,  now  and  then,  as  the  conversation  ad- 
vanced. Thus,  when  speaking  of  "  meditation,  self- 
examination,  and  prayer,  as  three  of  the  most  impor- 
tant Christian  duties,"  and  explaining  the  value  of 
meditation,  among  other  things,  as  an  aid  to  self- 
examination,  she  turned  to  Mrs.  • •  and  said  with 

great  tenderness,  "  You  exainine  yourself  every  night, 
of  course,  Mrs.  ;  every  Christian  does  Unity 

In  answer  to  a  direct  inquiry  on  the  subject  of 
prayer,  she  gaid,  "  I  have  been  in  the  habit  of  retiring 
to  my  room  for  the  study  of  the  Scriptures  and  prayer 
soon  after  family  devotions  in  the  morning;  then  at 
noon,  and  at  sundown.  Of  course,  I  commend  myself 
to  God  before  I  go  to-bed  at  night,  and  when  I  get  up 
in  the  morning.    All  Christians  do  that,  don't  they?" 

Would  that  I  could  have  answered,  "  Yes,"  to  this 
simple-hearted  inquiry.  Thus,  "  seven  times  a  day  " 
does  this  child  of  sorrow  seek  divine  light  and  sup- 
port of  the  great  Source  of  blessing.  "Seven  times 
a  day,"  says  David,  "  do  I  call  upon  the  name  of  the 
Lord." 

"  Do  you  find  any  occasions  for  cjaculatory  i)ray- 
er?"  I  inquired. 

"  0  yes;  I  go  to  God  with  every  thing.     When  1 


A  FARMER'S  DAUGHTER.  105 

am  about  the  house,  or  baking,  or  washing,  or  when  a 
troublesome  neighbor  is  here,  or  any  thing  goes  wrong 
in  tlie  family,  or  I  am  suffering  pain,  I  can  lift  my 
lieart  to  God,  and  he  hears  me  just  as  well  as  in  the 
closet.  When  I  am  in  church,  and  the  minister  is 
preaching,  I  can  fix  my  mind  on  some  impenitent  sin- 
ner, and  entreat  God  to  bless  his  word  to  that  soul ; 
and  yet  I  can  hear  all  he  says,  and  profit  by  preaching 
all  the  more." 

Happy  Christian !  Would  that  the  wealthy,  and 
tlie  learned,  and  the  distinguished  of  this  world  had 
thy  riches,  and  knowledge,  and  honor !  A  prayerless 
soul  is  a  Christless  soul ;  and  a  Christless  soul  can 
never  be  a  happy  soul,  "  for  tlie  wrath  of  God  ahideth^^ 
on  it. 

We  took  our  leave  of  this  interesting  female,  after 
a  protracted  interview,  with  a  deepened  conviction  of 
the  truth  of  the  Bible,  and  with  a  more  profound  ad- 
miration of  the  gospel  for  this  renewed  illustration  of 
its  adaptation  to  the  wants  of  the  soul. 

The  next  day  was  stormy  and  unpleasant;  but  I 
could  not  deny  myself  the  satisfaction  of  another  in- 
terview with  Miss .  An  hours  familiar  conver- 
sation concerning  the  precious  gospel,  the  experience 
of  its  power  on  her  own  heart,  and  the  means  she 
employed  for  imparting  it  to  others,  only  increased, 
my  interest  in  her  history,  and  my  gratitude  for  the 
grace  of  God  displayed  in  it.  When  I  expressed  a 
desire  that  she  would  remember  in  her  prayers  one 
who  was  ready  to  sink  under  the  weight  of  public 
responsibilities  and  private  bereavements,  she  replied, 
"  I  have  prayed  for  you  ever  since  the  day  you  were 
here.''  It  was  but  the  previous  afternoon — frequent 
5* 


lOG  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

prayer  made  it  seem  longer.     "  I  pray  for  all  my 

friends.      When  I  think  of  the family  on  my 

knees,  they  seem  to  be  right  before  mc.  0,  how  I 
love  them!" 

Can  it  be  that  such  a  tree  bears  no  fruit?  Is  the 
piety  of  the  farmer's  daughter  simply  meditative  ;  and 
is  there  nothing  more  than  the  "  unconscious  influence  " 
which  every  spiritual  Christian  exercises,  but  with 
which  no  truly  devout  disciple  can  be  satisfied  ?  The 
grace  of  God  in  the  heart  will  as  surely  manifest  itself 
in  the  life,  as  the  living  branch  will  produce  its  fruits 
when  united  to  the  living  vine.  Says  the  Saviour, 
"  He  that  abideth  in  me,  and  I  in  him,  the  same  bring- 
eth  forth  much  fruit.  Herein  is  my  Father  glorified, 
that  ye  bear  much  fruit ;  so  shall  ye  be  my  disdpksJ' 
But  how  can  the  poor,  suffering  farmer's  daughter  do 
any  thing  for  the  glory  of  the  Redeemer,  or  the  spir- 
itual benefit  of  those  around  her?  Is  it  not  enough 
for  her  to  suffer  the  will  of  God  in  patience  and  meek- 
ness ? 

For  several  years  after  her  conversion,  her  health 
allowed  little  more  than  the  cultivation  of  her  own 
graces,  and  occasional  efforts  for  the  salvation  of 
others.  About  three  years  since,  however,  she  was 
so  far  restored  as  to  be  able  to  commence  more  sys- 
tematic and  efficient  plans  for  the  spiritual  benefit  of 
her  neighbors.  The  population  around  her  was  very 
wicked.  The  Sabbath  was  a  holiday  ;  profanity  and 
intemperance  abounded.  No  Sabbath-school  gathered 
the  children  from  the  streets ;  no  church  called  the 
people  from  their  houses. 

She  called  on  two  families,  and  invited  the  chil- 
dren to  come  to  her  Sabbath-school.    Tlic  kitchen  was 


A  FARMER'S   DAUGHTER.  107 

arranged  for  the  purpose,  and  has  since  been  the  scene 
of  her  patient  toil.  By  denying  herself  the  morning 
service  at  chiircli,  she  gains  the  quiet  hours  "when  the 
family  arc  away.  One  by  one  the  families  around 
sent  their  children,  imtil  the  number  increased  from 
twenty-seven  the  first  year,  to  forty-eight  at  the  time 
of  our  visit.  From  one  family,  residing  on  the  hill 
three  miles  distant,  five  children,  the  youngest  but  five 
years  old,  walked  to  the  school.  AVith  the  exception 
of  such  aid  as  was  rendered  by  two  of  the  oldest  of 
her  pupils,  in  teaching  the  younger  children  to  read, 
she  Avas  the  only  instructor.  Sometimes,  from  illness, 
she  has  been  under  the  necessity  of  laying  her  head 
upon  her  pillow,  while  carrying  forward  the  instruc- 
tion of  nearly  fifty  pupils.  The  arrangement  of  her 
school-room  must  be  done  cliiefly  by  her  own  hands. 
The  government  of  her  untutored  charge  all  devolved 
on  her.  But  with  these  disadvantages  she  has  perse- 
vered, until  that  humble  school  has  become  the  centre 
of  religious  light  to  all  that  district. 

The  results  of  such  an  attempt  to  do  good  under 
difficulties,  with  the  divine  blessing,  are  suited  to 
encourage  the  humblest  of  Christ's  disciples  to  like 
efforts.  The  Sabbath  is  now  honored  where  it  was 
profaned ;  religious  books,  which  she  constantly  loaned 
to  families  through  the  children,  furnished  a  substitute 
for  preaching,  and  did  much  to  promote  Sabbath  ob- 
servance, temperance,  and  piety ;  the  children  were 
gaining  a  knowledge  of  the  Scriptures,  and  were  often 
in  tears  while  the  gospel  was  unfolded  to  them ;  and 
although  there  were  as  yet  no  marked  instances  of 
conversion  among  her  scholars,  it  was  no  source  of 
discouragement  to  her.     She  lived  in  daily  expecta- 


108  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

tion  of  a  visitation  from  on  high,  which  should  quick- 
en the  seed  slie  was  sowing  in  hope.  The  harvest' 
time  is  coming. 

On  Sabbath  morning,  my  friends  from  the  mansion 
accompanied  me  to  the  Sunday-school  of  the  farmer's 
daughter.  Perhaps  one-half  of  the  more  distant  pupils 
were  prevented  from  attending,  by  the  rain.  In  the 
small  neat  kitchen  were  gathered  about  twenty  cliil- 
dren  and  youth  between  the  ages  of  four  and  eighteen, 
including  three  or  four  little  black  boys.  A  few  older 
persons  had  also  come  to  enjoy  her  instructions.  Tlie 
order  of  the  school  was  perfect.  Though  a  little  em- 
barrassed by  the  presence  of  strangers,  she  proceeded 
calmly  with  the  lesson,  which  related  to  the  character 
of  Judas,  and  the  betrayal  of  the  Son  of  God.  She 
gave  a  clear  exposition  of  the  passage,  and  added  re- 
marks of  a  practical  nature  adapted  to  the  compre- 
hension of  her  youngest  hearer.  After  this  exercise, 
she  requested  the  scholars,  in  order,  to  repeat  the 
Commandments.  A  young  woman,  perhaps  seventeen 
years  of  age,  repeated  the  command,  "  Thou  shalthavc 
no  other  gods  before  me."    The  teacher  addressed  her 

in  the  most  solemn  and  direct  manner,  "  Sarah , 

you  have  broken  this  commandment  of  the  Lord.  You 
have  an  idol  in  your  heart,  Avhich  keeps  you  from  the 
love  of  God.  What  is  it  ?  Is  it  dress  ?  Is  it  i^leas- 
ure?  You  know.  It  will  ruin  your  soul,  if  it  is  not 
renounced.  Will  you  give  it  up?  To-day?  Xow?" 
This  was  said  in  a  tone  of  affection,  and  yet  with  a 
solemnity  that  was  dreadful.  Sarah's  conscience  was 
roused ;  she  covered  her  face  with  her  book,  but,  for 
many  minutes,  the  tears  trickling  down  her  cheeks,  and 
the  heaving  of  her  breast,  betrayed  the  emotion  which 


A  FARMER'S  DAUGHTER.  109 

these  simple  words  awakened.  This  must  serve  as  a 
sample  of  her  manner. 

After  the  commandments  were  repeated  and  com- 
mented upon,  she  began  a  review  of  her  "  lists,"  as 
she  termed  them,  or  a  series  of  questions  in  manu- 
script, which  she  had  prepared,  embracing  the  princi- 
pal events  in  biblical  history,  and  the  more  prominent 
doctrines  of  the  word  of  God.  These  were  answered 
with  great  jjromptness,  in  turn,  even  by  the  youngest 
scholars.  A  class  of  the  smallest  children  was  then 
examined  in  the  "  Scripture  Catechism."  In  such 
ways  were  these  young  minds  familiarized  with  the 
word  of  God,  and  with  such  a  living  exemplification 
of  its  spirit  and  power  before  them  as  to  impress  every 
truth  on  the  mind  and  heart. 

Within  a  few  months  after  this,  Miss  com- 
menced visiting  the  parents  of  these  children,  and 
other  neglected  families  in  her  vicinity,  distributing 
tracts  and  books,  conversing  on  personal  religion,  and 
endeavoring  to  bring  all  under  the  influence  of  the 
gospel.  Besides  being  a  Sabbath-school  teacher,  she 
became,  in  this  sense,  a  colporteur.  She  also  sustained 
a  school  for  colored  people,  embracing  several  adults, 
after  the  service  on  each  Sabbath  afternoon. 

Such  are  some  of  the  ways  in  which  piety  in  the 
heart  works  out  in  the  life.  This  feeble,  suffering 
female  laid  the  foundations  of  pure  morals  and  vital 
religion  in  that  ignorant,  destitute  neighborhood  ;  and 
became  as  truly  a  missionary  as  was  Harriet  Xewell 
or  Harriet  AViuslow,  Her  efforts  were  appreciated, 
and  her  religious  character  respected  by  all  around 
her.  She  was  "  a  liglit  shining  in  a  dark  place,'"'  and 
the  judgment-day  may  reveal  many  an  heir  of  glory 


110  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

led  to  the  cross  by  the  consistent  example  and  self- 
denying  labors  of  the  farmer's  daughter. 

This  liumble  narrative  teaches  some  important 
lessons. 

1.  It  furnishes  an  illustration  of  the  power  of  a 
spiritual  faith  in  moulding  the  character  and  direct- 
ing the  influence  of  a  family  of  wealth  and  refine- 
ment. 

2.  It  shows  that  the  Spirit  of  God  can  deal  with 
the  conscience  even  amidst  seasons  of  gayety  and 
folly,  and  in  its  sovereign  power  can  make  the  wick- 
ed pleasures  as  well  as  the  "  wrath  "  of  man  to  praise 
him. 

3.  The  Bible  furnishes  sources  of  knowledge  and 
of  support  that  are  unfailing.  It  is  the  poor  man's 
book.  Woe  to  him  who  would  deprive  the  poor  of 
this  rich  boon  of  heaven ! 

4.  Vast  attainments  may  be  made  in  divine  know- 
ledg'e  by  studying  the  Scriptures  with  prayer,  even  by 
the  unlettered  invalid.  Is  there  not  a  criminal  neg- 
lect of  the  study  of  God's  book  by  those  in  health, 
and  with  every  help  to  understand  its  sacred  pages? 

5.  There  is  such  a  thing  as  "praying  without  ceas- 
ing," and  he  who  attains  nearest  to  it  is  the  happiest 
Christian. 

6.  Pious  females  dwelling  in  destitute  settlements 
have  here  an  example  of  active  usefulness  wliich  should 
stimulate  them  to  kindred  labors.  It  is  not  great  tal- 
ents, nor  favoring  circumstances,  so  much  as  ardent 
piety  and  a  willing  mind,  that  secures  results  like 
those  here  delineated.  "  Go,  work  in  my  vineyard," 
is  the  voice  of  this  example,  echoing  the  voice  of  the 
great  Vine-dresser. 


-  A  FAITHFUL  ELDER.  Ill 

7.  The  iufidcl  may  scoff  at  the  Bible  and  the  relig- 
ion of  the  cross  ;  but  one  such  character  as  that  here 
described  is  a  proof  of  the  divinity  of  the  Scriptures, 
and  of  the  po^ver  of  the  gospel  of  Christ  in  changing 
the  gay  worldling  into  the  meek  and  devoted  follow- 
er of  Jesus,  elevating  and  ennobling  the  intellect  and 
the  heart,  supporting  under  trials,  and  stimulating  to 
beneficent  labors,  which  nothing  can  gainsay.  Can 
infidelity  point  to  one  such  triumph  of  its  principles? 
Account  for  such  a  change,  with  such  fruits,  on  any 
other  principle  than  that  the  religion  of  the  Bible  is 
the  religion  of  God,  and  we  will  concede  that  all  is 
delusion  which  seems  like  truth  in  the  experience  of 
divine  grace  in  the  life  and  history  of  the  farmer's 
daughter.  R.  s.  c. 


A  FAITHFUL   ELDER. 

The  following  sketch  is  from  memory,  and  relates 
to  the  last  century  : 

J •  L •  was  the  son  of  pious  parents  in  hum- 
ble circumstances.  He  was  brought  up  to  labor  on 
the  farm,  and  was  restrained  from  open  vice  by  his 
religious  education,  and  by  a  regard  to  the  authority 
and  feelings  of  his  parents.  On  a  certain  Sabbath, 
there  being  no  preaching  in  the  immediate  neighbor- 
hood of  his  father's  residence,  he  had  formed  the  pur- 
pose to  attend  a  great  meeting  at  the  distance  of  twelve 
or  fifteen  miles.  He  owned  a  young  horse,  on  which 
he  intended  to  ride  to  the  place,  but  on  going  to  the 
pasture  in  tlie  morning  to  bridle  the  colt,  he  eluded 
all  his  attempts  to  catch  him,  and  he  was  obliged  to 


112  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

return  to  the  house  foiled,  disappointed,  and  much 
chagrined.  How  to  spend  the  wearisome  day  he  knew 
not. 

At  length  tne  thouglit  struck  him  that  he  would 
take  a  book  and  go  out  into  the  woods  and  amuse 
himself  with  reading.  He  stepped  to  the  book-case 
and  seized  the  first  book  which  came  to  hand,  which 
happened  to  be  Doddridge's  Rise  and  Progress  of  Re- 
ligion in  the  Soul.  It  being  summer,  he  sought  out  a 
cool,  shady,  and  sequestered  spot,  where  he  lay  down 
and  began  at  the  beginning  of  his  author ;  and  the 
Holy  Spirit  accompanied  every  truth  which  engaged 
his  thoughts  with  a  divine  influence,  for  he  was  deeply 
convinced  of  sin  on  reading  the  first  chapters  ;  and 
when  he  came  to  the  expiation  of  Christ  and  the 
method  of  salvation,  the  whole  plan  was  opened  to 
his  believing  mind,  and  he  deliberately  embraced  the 
Saviour  as  ofi'ered  in  the  gospel,  and  was  filled  with 
peace  and  joy.  Thus  this  young  man  went  out  into 
the  woods  in  an  unconverted  and  condemned  state, 
and  in  a  few  hours  returned  a  renewed  man,  freely 
justified  by  the  grace  which  is  in  Christ  Jesus.  In  due 
time  he  entered  the  communion  of  the  church,  and  be- 
came an  active,  zealous  professor  at  a  time  when  great 
lukewarmness  had  taken  possession  of  the  church. 
He  married  an  intelligent  woman,  who  by  the  force  of 
his  example  and  instructions  embraced  religion,  and 
became  as  zealous  and  more  communicative  than  her 
husband.  They  lived  happily,  and  were  blessed  with 
three  sons  and  two  daughters. 

About  middle  age  lie  was  elected  a  ruling  elder  in 
the  church  to  which  he  belonged,  and  in  this  office  he 
received  grace  to  be  faithful.     He  held  up  the  hands 


A  FAITHFUL  ELDER.  113 

of  his  minister,  and  defended  his  character  from  cal- 
umnies attempted  to  be  heaped  upon  him.  He  visited 
the  poor,  and  contrived  methods  of  relief;  wherever 

there  was  sickness,  J L was  to  be  found 

sympathizing  with  the  sufferers,  and  offering  up  fer- 
vent prayers  for  the  recovery  of  the  sick,  and  for  a 
blessing  on  the  rod  of  affliction.  By  this  means  prayer 
was  introduced  into  families  where  the  voice  of  sup- 
plication had  never  before  been  heard. 

When  a  boy  I  had  an  awful  dread  of  this  man,  and 
shunned  him  for  fear  he  would  speak  to  me  about  re- 
ligion ;  but  a  little  sister  being  very  sick,  I  was  pleased 
to  see  this  faithful  man  come  to  the  house.  He  sym- 
pathized and  advised  with  our  parents,  and  spent  the 
night  in  watching  with  the  sick  child  ;  but  what 
affected  all  most,  was  his  prayer,  so  fervent,  so  affec- 
tionate, so  appropriate.  It  was  felt  as  if  surely  the 
Lord  would  hear  and  answer  such  a  prayer. 

When  few  professors  kept  themselves  unspotted 
from  the  world,  this  man  and  his  wife  stood  firm  in 
their  adherence  to  truth  and  duty.  Worldly  amuse- 
ments were  introduced  by  some  influential  professors ; 
strict  religion  was  scorned,  and  the  liberal  professor 
was  lauded ;  but  our  elder  could  not  be  moved  to 
favor  dancing  and  cards.  He  set  his  face  resolutely 
against  all  such  practices  as  inimical  to  the  spirit  of 
true  religion.  He  faithfully  warned  professors  against 
the  deadening  influence  of  these  innocent  amusements 
as  they  were  called ;  and  when  private  exhortation 
and  remonstrance  failed,  he  had  the  fidelity  to  present 
tlie  cases  of  such  professors  to  the  session  to  be  dealt 
with,  as  acting  inconsistently  with  their  Christian  pro- 
fession.   This  exposed  him  to  a  load  of  obloquy ;  and 


114  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

he  was  clamored  against  as  an  enemy  of  all  clicerful- 
ness  and  enjoyment.  Some  ministers  also  took  sides 
against  him,  and  their  opinions  and  example  were 
published  by  multitudes  who  never  remembered  any 

of  his  pious  sayings.    J L ,  however,  went  on 

his  course  unmoved ;  and  though  hated  and  dreaded 
by  the  wicked,  whenever  any  one  became  serious  he 
was  immediately  sought  out,  and  his  counsel  and  sym- 
pathy and  prayers  were  always  cheerfully  bestowed. 
The  state  of  religion  in  the  land  seemed  to  grow 
worse  and  worse  just  after  the  close  of  the  Revolu- 
tionary war,  until  he  and  his  wife  and  a  few  others 
seemed  to  be  left  alone.  But  even  in  this  time,  the 
presence  of  this  tall,  gray-headed  elder  would  strike 
an  awe  into  the  minds  of  the  most  careless.  One  day 
he  had  business  with  a  man  who  was  at  a  dancing 
party  in  a  private  house,  and  when  he  approached  the 
house  consternation  seized  the  company,  and  at  once 
the  fiddling  and  dancing  ceased.  He,  however,  ad- 
ministered no  reproof  to  the  company,  but  transacted 
his  business  and  departed. 

It  pleased  a  gracious  God  about  the  year  1789  to 
revive  religion  Avith  extraordinary  power  in  all  the 
country  around  where  he  lived.  It  was  what  he  had 
prayed  for  night  and  day,  but  scarcely  hoped  to  see, 
for  he  had  never  before  witnessed  what  is  called  a 
revival.  Almost  his  whole  time  was  now  spent  in 
conversing  with  the  new  converts.  I  have  known 
him  often  to  ride  six  or  seven  miles  to  sec  persons 
under  religious  impressions.  And  he  would  labor 
with  them  in  the  most  earnest  and  aflfectionatc  man- 
ner, and  would  bring  to  them  suitable  books,  for  he 
was  much  conversant  with  the  most  spiritual  and  ex- 


THE  ELDER'S   ELDEST  SOX.  115 

perimcntal  authors.  Many  were  deeply  indebted  to 
his  faithful  labors,  aud  none  more  than  the  author  of 
this  paper.  Senox. 


THE   ELDER'S   ELDEST   SON. 

Perhaps  there  has  scarcely  existed  since  the  fall  a 
family  in  which  there  was  less  to  corrupt  youth  than 
in  that  of  the  faithful  elder  described  in  our  last 
paper. 

In  this  family  there  were  no  servants,  but  the 
elder's  wife  performed  all  the  work  of  the  house,  ex- 
cept that,  when  sick  or  unwell,  some  woman  of  good 
character  from  among  the  neighbors  assisted  her  ;  and 
the  elder  himself  did  the  whole  work  of  the  farm,  ex- 
cept in  the  more  busy  seasons,  when  a  man  was  hired 
for  a  few  days.  lu  this  house,  purity,  peace,  and 
order  prevailed.  As  soon  as  the  children  were  capa- 
ble, their  aid  was  used  both  in  the  house  and  out  of 
doors.  The  oldest  child  was  a  son,  a  fine  healthy 
boy,  large  and  handsome.  This  boy  was  carefully- 
instructed  in  the  principles  of  religion  both  by  his 
mother  and  father,  and  he  appeared  remarkably  do- 
cile, and  learned  so  well,  that  his  parents  felt  a  strong 
desire  to  devote  him  to  God  in  the  work  of  the  holy 
ministry,  if  it  should  please  God  to  make  him  early  a 
subject  of  his  grace,  for  which  blessing  they  ceased 
not  to  pray  daily. 

When  the  boy  had  arrived  at  the  age  of  sixteen 
or  seventeen  years,  it  was  thought  advisable  to  send 
him  to  an  academy  at  no  great  distance,  to  commence 
a  course  of  liberal  education  under  an  approved  teach- 
er, a  man  of  piety  as  well  as  learning.     And  it  was 


IIG  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

hoped  the  young  man's  morals  would  be  safe,  as  he 
would  board  in  the  house  of  an  aunt  who  lived  near 
the  academy. 

The  youth  had  scarcely  ever  lodged  out  of  his 
father's  house  in  his  life,  and  had  never  been  exposed 
to  any  temptations  from  bad  company,  and  was  per- 
haps as  innocent  as  any  of  Adam's  children  in  a  nat- 
ural state.  He  had,  however,  much  natural  suscepti- 
bility of  impressions  from  without,  and  a  sociable 
disposition. 

At  this  time  there  were  some  young  men  in  the 
academy  who  belonged  to  wealthy  irreligious  families, 
and  from  their  parents  and  the  company  which  fre- 
quented their  houses,  they  had  imbibed  a  spirit  of 
hostility  to  religion,  and  had  picked  up  some  objec- 
tions to  the  Bible,  and  learned  to  make  a  jest  of 
sacred  things.  These  young  men,  as  soon  as  the 
elder's  son  entered  the  school,  determined  to  do  what 
they  could  to  seduce  him  from  the  path  of  morality 
and  innocence.  They  began  by  throwing  out  hints 
and  inuendoes  against  revealed  religion,  and  express- 
ing pity  for  such  as  were  held  under  the  restraints  of 
religion,  or  were  conscience-bound,  as  they  express- 
ed it. 

These  ideas  were  entirely  new  to  the  elder's  son, 
and  he  drank  in  the  poison  greedily,  for  he  had  a 
strong  inclination  to  sinful  indulgences,  which  was 
only  restrained  by  his  religious  education.  These 
sceptical  opinions  were  exceedingly  agreeable  to  his 
corrupt  nature,  but  lie  was  not  sure  that  these  objec- 
tions to  Christianity  had  a  solid  foundation.  lie, 
tlierefore,  sought  for  books  whicli  would  have  the 
effect  of  confirming  him  in  his  infidelity,  and  the  works 


THE  ELDER'S   ELDEST  SOX.  117 

of  Hume,  Voltaire,  and  others  were  obtained  by  means 
of  the  young  men  before  mentioned.  And  being  now 
in  a  great  measure  freed  from  the  restraints  whicli 
had  been  on  him,  he  ruslied  forth  into  a  course  of  dis- 
sipation and  licentiousness  in  emulation  of  his  new 
comrades.  Indeed,  it  was  not  long  before  he  went 
beyond  any  of  them  in  boldness  in  sinning.  Those 
who  become  vicious  in  opposition  to  the  restraints  of 
a  religious  education,  commonly  run  to  greater  lengths 
than  others  in  transgression,  because  the  strength  of 
passion  necessary  to  overleap  this  barrier  is  sufficient 
to  drive  them  on  far  in  tlie  paths  of  iniquity. 

For  some  time  he  was  careful  to  conceal  his  irreg- 
ularities from  his  parents;  but  ere  long  this  was  im- 
practicable, and  he  began  to  appear  boldly  in  the  ranks 
of  the  greatest  transgressors.  He  was  a  leader  and 
corrupter  of  others,  and  seemed  to  have  lost  all  sense 
of  religion,  and  to  be  confirmed  in  his  infidelity.  It 
is  impossible  to  describe  the  disappointment  and  an- 
guish of  his  pious  parents.  They  could  do  nothing  for 
him  but  weep  and  pray  in  secret.  The  young  man 
had  gone  on  in  this  way  for  several  years,  growing 
worse  and  worse,  until  his  character  was  ruined  and 
all  respectable  people  shunned  his  company. 

About  this  time  a  young  man,  a  cousin  of  his, 
came  in  from  the  west,  where  he  had  lived  for  some 
time,  and  had  recently  experienced  a  great  change. 
He  had  also  been  very  wild,  and  having  been  some- 
what suddenly  converted,  he  was  full  of  zeal,  and 
spoke  freely  to  his  old  acquaintances  of  the  necessity 
of  religion,  and  did  not  neglect  the  elder's  son,  to 
whom  he  addressed  himself  in  a  very  earnest  but 
affectionate  manner;  and  it  was  apparent  that  his 


118  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

example  and  solemn  exhortations  produced  some  im- 
pression. As  he  was  now  on  his  way  to  college,  he 
asked  the  elder's  son  to  accompany  him  and  bring- 
back  his  horse.  Indeed,  the  plan  was  secretly  agreed 
upon  between  his  cousin  and  his  father  to  get  him  to 
go,  for  at  that  time  a  powerful  revival  was  in  progress 
in  the  college  and  vicinity;  and  the  father  being  ac- 
quainted with  the  president  of  the  college,  wrote  him 
a  full  account  of  his  son's  unhappy  state  of  mind,  and 
entreated  him  to  try  to  bring  him  off  from  his  infidel- 
ity. This  letter  he  did  not  put  into  the  hand  of  liis 
son,  but  of  his  cousin,  with  a  request  that  he  would 
not  let  his  son  know  that  ho  had  written.  The  rev- 
erend president  on  receiving  this  letter  invited  both 
the  young  men  to  his  house,  and  after  some  general 
remarks  he  commenced  a  conversation  on  the  subject 
of  the  causes  of  the  prevailing  infidelity,  and  took  up 
in  order  the  arguments  of  deistical  writers  ;  he  refut- 
ed them  with  a  clearness  and  force  which  overset  the 
system  which  the  elder's  son  had  long  been  building 
up.  He  never  hinted  that  he  had  any  suspicion  that 
the  young  man  belonged  to  this  unhappy  class,  and, 
indeed,  directed  his  discourse  mainly  to  his  cousin. 
The  device  answered  the  purpose  intended.  The 
young  man  not  only  renounced  his  infidelity,  but  fell 
under  deep  conviction  of  sin  liefore  he  returned  liomc. 
What  a  comfort  to  his  pious  parents.  His  motlicr  had 
always  entertained  a  confident  hope  of  liis  conversion, 
and  her  prayers  were  about  to  be  answered. 

It  was  some  time  before  the  young  man  could  be 
persuaded  to  entertain  any  hope  that  his  sins  could  be 
pardoned.  He  evidently  felt  that  he  was  the  chief  of 
sinners.      Never  was  a  cliango  more  manifest  in  out- 


A  SABBATH-SCIIOOL  TEACHER.  Ill) 

ward  appearance.  He  now  became  deeply  serious  at 
all  times,  and  under  the  impression  of  his  exceeding 
wickedness  he  seemed  little  disposed  to  go  into  com- 
pany of  any  kind. 

After  much  prayer  and  deliberation,  he  felt  con- 
strained to  think  it  a  duty  to  enter  the  holy  ministry. 
But  before  he  commenced  the  study  of  theology,  he 
undertook  to  teacli  a  classical  school  for  a  year.  He 
had  scarcely  commenced  his  school  when  he  was  seized 
with  a  violent  bilious  fever.  His  case  from  the  first 
was  considered  dangerous.  His  parents  made  haste 
to  see  him,  though  he  lay  at  a  considerable  distance 
from  their  residence.  While  the  issue  hung  in  doubt, 
the  father,  a  man  of  strong  mind  and  sober  principles, 
suffered  one  of  those  hallucinations  to  which  pious 
persons  are  sometimes  subject.  Having  been  earnest- 
ly pleading  with  God  for  the  life  of  his  son,  the  text 
of  Scripture,  "This  sickness  is  not  unto  death,"  was 
im.pressed  so  forcibly  on  his  mind,  that  he  was  fully 
persuaded  that  this  was  an  answer  to  his  prayer,  and 
rejoiced  in  the  prospect  of  receiving  his  first-born 
from  the  verge  of  the  grave.  But  alas,  the  young 
man  in  the  midst  of  his  days  was  cut  down.  Thus 
again  the  hopes  of  these  good  people  were  sadly  dis- 
appointed ;  but  there  was  now  comfort  mingled  with 
their  sorrow,  for  they  had  hope  in  his  death. 

Senex. 


A   SABBATII-SCITOOL  TEACHER. 

M.  S.  L ,  the  sul)ject  of  this  sketch,  was  an 

amiable  and  much  respected  young  woman..    Though 
living  in  a  conmiunity  where  the  Sabbath  sheds  its 


120  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

hallowed  light,  and  where  the  doors  of  the  sanctuary 
are  open  night  and  day,  inviting  the  weary  and  heavy- 
laden  to  enter,  where  they  may  hear  of  Him  who  can 
give  rest  to  their  souls,  yet  she  grew  up  in  almost 
total  ignorance  of  the  teachings  of  God's  word  and 
of  all  spiritual  duties.  By  precept  and  by  example 
she  was  taught  to  believe  that  all  that  was  required 
of  her,  as  an  accountable  being,  was  faithfully  to  per- 
form her  domestic  duties  and  lead  a  moral  life.  She 
had  never  bowed  her  knee  in  prayer ;  and  it  was  not 
until  she  was  eighteen,  that  she  heard  for  the  first 
time  the  preaching  of  the  glorious  gospel  of  the  bless- 
ed God. 

The  death  of  a  friend  of  her  own  age,  who  like 
herself  was  thoughtless  on  the  subject  of  religion,  and 
a  lover  of  worldly  pleasure,  produced  for  a  time  deep 
and  pungent  feeling,  and  led  her  to  desire  to  be  a 
Christian,  and  to  resolve  to  lead  a  different  life ;  but 
surrounded  by  worldly  companions,  and  having  no 
Christian  counsellor  to  guide  her,  the  serious  impres- 
sions gradually  wore  away,  and  Miriam  became  as 
careless  as  ever,  with  the  exception  of  occasional 
hours  of  bitterness,  when  conscience  would  lift  up  her 
voice  and  utter  her  warnings. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  she  came  to  reside  in 
our  beautiful  village,  and  became  connected  with  a 
family  in  wliich  there  was  but  one  professor  of  relig- 
ion. He  was  a  young  man,  who,  two  years  before, 
during  a  most  precious  work  of  grace,  had  been  pluck- 
ed as  a  brand  from  the  burning.  He  was  a  humble, 
devoted  Christian,  whose  life  was  a  commentary  on 
his  profession.  Being  naturally  diffident  and  reserv- 
ed, he  was  a  man  of  few  words,  but  his  consistent 


A  SABBATH-SCHOOL  TEACHER.  121 

/■ 
example  preached  more  eloquently  than  words  could. 

On  the  Sabbath,  while  the  other  members  of  the  fam- 
ily were  spending  its  precious  hours  in  vain  pursuits, 
this  young  friend  was  found  diligently  engaged  in  the 
Sabbath-school,  and  in  the  sanctuary  of  God;  and 
while  at  home,  his  time  was  spent  in  the  careful  study 
of  God's  word.  His  zeal  and  devotion  deeply  im- 
pressed the  mind  of  Miriam ;  his  example  was  a  con- 
stant reproof  to  her ;  she  felt  that  she  was  wasting 
her  life  and  ruining  her  soul,  and  that  he  had  a  source 
of  comfort  which  she  had  not,  and  her  heart  longed 
to  enjoy  what  she  believed  he  did. 

Not  long  after  this,  while  some  drops  of  mercy 
were  descending  upon  us,  Miriam  was  present  in  the 
house  of  God  and  heard  an  earnest  appeal  from  the 
pastor.  She  felt  that  every  word  he  uttered  was 
meant  for  her,  but  she  could  not  pray  ;  she  could  only 
weep  and  tremble.  She- left  the  sanctuary  in  great 
agony  of  soul,  realizing  that  she  had  lived  in  vain; 
that  she  had  been  all  her  life  sinning  against  God 
with  a  high  hand ;  that  she  was  a  lost  sinner,  for 
whom  there  appeared  to  be  no  mercy.  Overwhelmed 
with  distress,  she  sought  her  chamber,  and  in  the  an- 
guish of  her  soul  she  fell  upon  her  knees,  and  for  the 
■first  time  in  her  life  offered  up  a  prayer  to  God.  She 
slept  little  that  night,  and  for  a  number  of  days  the 
weight  of  guilt  upon  her  soul  was  almost  insupporta- 
ble. She  could  not  see  the  cifoss,  nor  realize  how  a 
sinner  could  be  saved  by  believing  on  Christ.  She 
was  almost  in  despair,  and  felt  that  it  was  of  no  use 
to  seek  any  longer,  and  that  she  must  perish,  the  very 
thought  of  which  filled  her  soul  with  agony.  How 
could  she  endure  the  thought  of  being  separated  from 


122  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

Christ,  whom  she  desired  to  love  ;  how  could  she  endure 
the  thouglit  of  being  shut  up  in  the  prison  of  despair? 
Her  soul  struggled  within  her,  while  her  cry  went  up 
to  God,  "Have  mercy  on  me,  a  poor  lost  sinner."  At 
this  moment,  while  the  "  pains  of  hell  gat  hold  upon 
her,  and  she  found  trouble  and  sorrow,"  her  eye  fell 
upon  the  tract,  "  The  Troubled  Conscience,"  and  rest- 
ed on  the  words,  "  Desponding  sinner,  dry  up  your 
tears,  and  doubt  no  longer.  The  greatest  sin  you  can 
commit  is  to  disbelieve  God's  promise  to  forgive  your 
other  sins."  She  felt  that  by  cherishing  unbelief,  she 
was  adding  to  all  her  other  sins,  and  she  resolved  to 
cast  herself  on  the  mercy  of  Christ  jm^^  as  she  was  ;  and 
that  moment  hope  spanned  the  heavens,  a  "  gyeat 
calm"  succeeded  the  storm,  and  her  soul  was  filled 
with  "  peace  in  believing,  and  joy  in  the  Holy  Ghost." 
As  she  sat  in  the  circle  of  prayer,  her  face  was  illu- 
mined with  brightness,  and 

"  Her  tongue  broke  out  in  uu-known  strains, 
And  sung  surprising  grace." 

Did  Christians  realize,  as  they  should,  tlie  power  of 
example,  they  would  be  more  careful  to  live  "  unblam- 
able in  holiness,"  and  "shine  as  lights"  in  tlic  midst 
of  the  moral  darkness  by  which  they  are  surrounded. 
The  silent  influence  of  a  young  man  led  to  the  con- 
version of  the  subject  of  the  above  sketch  ;  and  sho.rt- 
]y  after  her  conversion  she  met  with  a  younger  sister, 
to  whom  she  told  what  the  Lord  had  done  for  her  soul, 
and  the  result  was,  that  she  too  was  soon  "  brought  to 
Jesus,"  and  is  now  "happy  in  the  Lord."  Who  can 
trace  out  all  the  results  of  that  young  man's  consistent 
conduct,  even  in  this  one  instance  ?  Davics. 


THREE  PRAYING  FRIENDS. 


SIGHT  OF  PRAYER. 


THREE    PRAYING   FRIENDS. 

I  T\'AS  invited  to  aid  a  pastor  in  Delaware  Co., 
Pennsylvania,  during  a  revival  about  eleven  years 
a,2:o.  A  young  man,  afterwards  a  missionary  in  New 
Y'ork,  also  assisted  in  the  mf^etings  for  prayer.    When 


I  was  about  to  leave,  I  was  accompanied  on  my  way 
for  a  mile  or  more  by  the  i»astor  and  the  young  man. 


124  SKETCHES   FROM   LIFE. 

We  parted  at  a  spot  surrounded  on  three  sides  by- 
woods  ;  from  the  open  side  a  field  could  be  seen  at 
some  distance  on  a  hill.  Full  of  solemn  feeling,  we 
could  not  part  without  prayer.  An  old  tree-top  lay 
before  us,  and  one  of  the  company  proposed  to  kneel 
down  among  its  branches,  not  wishing  any  but  the  all- 
seeing  Eye  to  rest  upon  us.  All  three  prayed.  We 
parted. 

Three  months  afterwards,  a  letter  from  the  pastor 
informed  me  that  among  the  persons  received  into  his 
church,  the  fruits  of  the  revival,  was  one  who  traced 
his  first  serious  impressions,  which  resulted  in  his  con- 
version, to  the  scene  above  described.  While  plough- 
ing on  the  hill-side,  he  had  seen  three  men  bow  to- 
gether in  prayer  in  the  fallen  tree-top,  and  the  sight 
of  prayer  had  so  affected  him,  that  he  could  find  no 
peace  until  he  became  himself  a  praying  man. 

Thus  is  "  praying  in  secret "  rewarded  "  openly." 
Thus  varied  are  the  ways  in  whicli  the  Holy  Spirit 
carries  conviction  to  the  conscience.  Were  Chris- 
tians more  frequently  found  on  their  knees,  in  their 
closets,  in  parting  hours,  and  in  social  gatherings, 
there  would  be  more  converts  to  trace  their  religious 
impressions  to  the  sight  and  hearing  of  prayer,     g. 


A  POOR  WIDOW.  126 


AFFLICTION. 


A   POOR  WIDOW. 

"  I  HAVE  nothing  to  live  for,"  said  a  widow,  who 
had  buried  her  husband  some  years  before.  Subse- 
quently she  followed  a  beloved  son  to  the  grave,  who 
had  died  in  the  midst  of  life  and  usefulness  ;  and  now 
she  had  been  called  to  part  with  an  only  daughter, 
the  mother  of  two  children.  As  she  returned  from 
the  grave  of  this  loved  daughter,  she  went  up  into 
her  bed  and  lay  down  to  die.  "  Why  should  I  desire 
to  live  ?"  she  said  to  herself ;  "  I  am  left  alone,  my  fam- 
ily are  taken  from  me ;  what  have  I  to  live  for  ?" 

While  in  this  despairing  frame,  she  was  aroused 
from  her  repinings  by  the  voice  of  a  little  grand- 
daughter, who  could  not  realize  the  greatness  of  her 
loss  in  the  death  of  her  excellent  mother,  but  was 
affected  to  find  her  grandmother  in  tears.  ".Don't 
cry,  grandmother ;  I  will  take  care  of  you."  This 
tender  voice  scattered  the  clouds  of  grief,  and  brought 
her  to  her  right  mind.  She  felt  the  reproof.  She 
realized  in  a  moment  that  she  had  sinned  against 
God ;  she  felt  that  she  had  something  to  live  for. 
She  arose  from  her  bed,  and  on  her  knees  humbled 
herself  before  God,  and  like  David  took  food  and 
addressed  herself  to  the  work  of  life. 

Those  two  motherless  children  were  to  be  trained 
for  God.  In  a  few  days  they  were  sent  to  school,  and 
when  some  of  the  children  in  the  school  desired  the 
eldest  to  remain  and  play  with  them,  she  refused,  and 


126  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

said,  "  I  must  go  home  and  take  care  of  ray  poor  sick 
grandmother."  When  this  expression  of  love  and 
gratitude  was  mentioned  to  her,  she  could  not  re- 
frain from  weeping.  ".Surely," 'she  thought,  "  I  have 
enough  to  live  for. '  If  I  can  bring  these  dear  lambs 
to  Christ,  and  place  them  in  his  arms,  I  shall  not 
have  lived  in  vain." 

She  was  permitted  to  see  them  grow  up  in  the  fear  of 
God.  This  good  woman  might  have  adopted  the  words 
of  David,  "  Thou,  which  hast  showed  me  great  and  sore 
troubles,  shalt  quicken  me  again,  and  shalt  bring  mo 
up  again  from  the  depths  of  the  earth."     Psa.  71  :  20. . 

Many  in  the  midst  of  bereavement,  stripped  of 
friends,  are  ready  to  exclaim,  "  We  have  nothing  to 
live  for;"  but  such  language  is  unbecoming  a  Chris- 
tian. Nothing  to  live  for !  Is  the  glory  of  God  noth- 
ing? Is  the  church  of  Christ  nothing?  Is  the  sal- 
vation of  souls  nothing  ?  Is  prayer  nothing?  Nothing 
to  live  for!  If  we  were  on  a  barren  rock,  or  shut  up 
for  years  in  a  sick-room,  we  should  have  enough  to 
live  for.  "  I  have  chosen  thee,"  saith  God,  "  in  the 
furnace  of  affliction."  True  Christian  submission — 
submission  springing  from  confidence  in  God,  and  love 
to  his  character,  promotes  the  divine  glory  as  much  as 
active  service.  Let  us  feel,  whatever  be  our  circum- 
stances, that  it  is  a  blessing  to  live ;  it  is  a  privilege 
to  suffer,  as  well  as  do,  the  will  of  our  heavenly  Fa- 
ther. T. 


HENRY   L ,   THE   DEFORMED   BOY. 

]\[any  years  ago,  in  a  quiet  little  village  on  the 
sea-coast  of  New  England,  lived  a  poor  boy  whose 


THE  DEFORMED  BOY.  IS" 

name  was  Henry  L .     He  was  an  only  son,  wliom 

his  parents  had  fondly  hoped  would  be  their  support 
and  their  joy ;  but  a  sad  accident  in  early  childhood 
had  made  him  deformed  for  life,  and  they  looked  for- 
ward with  dread  to  the  mortifications  and  helpless- 
ness which  they  feared  awaited  him  in  the  future. 
Poor  Henry  felt  his  misfortune  most  keenly,  and  often 
stole  away  by  himself  to  shed  bitter  tears  over  his 
blighted  prospects.  He  was  unlike  all  the  other  boys, 
and  he  always  would  be.  It  seemed  to  him  that  every 
one  regarded  him  with  contempt,  and  that  though 
some  might  pity,  no  one  could  love  him.  He  became 
hopeless  and  desponding,  and  shrank  from  observa- 
tion, feeling  that  though  life  offered  many  joys  to 
others,  it  had  none  for  him. 

But  a  change  came  over  Henry's  life,  and  the  con- 
solation he  had  so  long  sought  in  vain  from  the  world, 
he  found  in  the  love  of  his  Saviour.  He  was  no  lon- 
ger hopeless,  for  was  not  heaven  before  him  ?  His 
fears  for  the  future  were  dispelled,  for  had  not  Jesus 
promised  to  be  with  him  to  the  end?  Even  his  de- 
formity he  could  now  regard  without  a  murmur  or  a 
regret,  for  he  knew  that  it  had  been  sent  upon  him  b}^ 
his  tenderest  Friend,  and  he  was  willing  to  suffer,  if 
in  that  way  he  might  grow  in  grace.  Jesus  loved 
liim,  even  him,  and  he  was  satisfied. 

Henry's  new  hopes  immediately  began  to  influence 
his  life.  Hitherto  he  had  lived  for  himself,  he  must 
now  begin  to  live  for  others.  He  felt  that  ds  there 
was  a, work  for  each  one  to  do,  he  had  no  excuse  for 
sitting  idle,  and  tlie  thought  of  his  aged  parents,  who 
would  soon  be  entirely  dependent  upon  him,  was  a 
sufficient  stimulus  to  exertion.     By  patient  applica- 


128  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

tion  he  soon  learned  a  trade,  and  though  his  earnings 
were  small,  he  cheerfully  devoted  them  all  to  their 
comfort,  and  by  his  kind  and  assiduous  attentions  did 
all  in  his  power  to  promote  their  happiness.  He  had 
become  their  staff  and  their  stay  and  the  joy  of  their 
liearts,  and  they  blessed  God  for  giving  them  so  excel- 
lent a  son. 

Henry  L ■  became  one  of  the  most  active  young 

men  in  the  church,  and  his  amiability  and  self-sacrific- 
ing spirit  made  him  a  general  favorite ;  indeed,  his 
acquaintances  hardly  thought  of  his  deformity,  it  was 
so  overbalanced  by  the  loveliness  of  his  character. 

When  I  first  saw  him,  I  pitied  him ;  but  when  I 
heard  his  intelligent  conversation,  and  saw  his  cheer- 
ful face  beam  with  bencA'olence  and  happiness,  my  pity 
was  exchanged  for  admiration  of  the  courage  and  en- 
ergy which  through  grace  had  enabled  him  to  triumph 
over  his  infirmity. 

It  is  a  sweetly  comforting  thought,  that  the  physi- 
cal defects  which  so  often  depreciate  us  in  the  eyes  of 
the  world,  make  us  only  larger  sharers  in  the  tender 
love  and  sympathy  of  our  Master.  To  him  there  is 
no  deformity  but  that  of  sin,  and  this  he  is  ever  ready 
and  willing  to  remove. 


A   DYING  MAN. 

A  beloved  friend,  who  was  converted  to  God  in 
1838,  in  the  same  precious  college  revival  with  the 
writer,  settled  in  Baltimore,  where  he  inherited  from 
his  father  much  property,  which  he  cheerfully  laid  at 
the  foot  of  the  cross.    The  following  fact  was  related 


A  DYING  MAN.  129 

by  him  in  my  hearing.  In  the  suburbs  of  Baltimore 
he  found  a  poor  man  dying  of  consumption.  During 
the  former  part  of  his  sickness  he  was  without  hope 
and  without  God.  Two  young  ladies  came  to  his 
wretched  dwelling  and  presented  him  a  tract.  He 
threw  it  on  the  floor,  despising  the  gift.  It  lay  there 
till  it  became  soiled  and  torn,  but  in  a  few  days  he 
asked  his  wife  to  hand  it  to  him.  The  title  of  the 
tract  caught  his  eye,  "  Do  you  want  a  Friend  ?"  His 
heart  told  him,  "Yes,  I  do  want  a  friend."  He  read 
the  tract,  and  by  the  blessing  of  God,  it  led  him  to 
read  the  Bible,  to  pray,  and  to  believe  on  Christ  with 
all  liis  lieart.  And  this  minister  of  the  gospel  said 
he  had  often  seen  the  sick  man  take  that  tattered 
tract  from  the  leaves  of  his  Bible,  and  hold  it  up, 
thanking  God  for  it. 

Perhaps  those  young  ladies  never  knew  the  blessed  ■ 
result.  Their  joyful  reward  may  be  reserved  till  the 
day  of  judgment.  Can  we  not  do  likewise,  and  visit 
the  sick  to  win  souls  to  Christ,  and  prepare  jewels 
for  the  Redeemer's  diadem?  I  have  often  thought 
that  if  by  waiting  upon  the  sick  for  a  few  hours  on 
the  Sabbath,  we  could  enable  some  wearied  friend, 
long  detained  at  home  by  the  sickness  of  some  mem- 
ber of  the  family,  to  go  and  fill  our  wonted  seat  in 
the  sanctuary,  it  would  be  a  noble  work.  Thus  we 
could  do  a  double  service,  by  reading  a  tract  or  a 
chapter  in  the  Bible  to  the  sick,  and  at  the  same  time 
sending  some  one  to  the  house  of  God  who  could  not 
otherwise  hear  the  gospel.  Let  us  seek  "  by  all  means 
to  save  some.",  t.  s.  m. 


6* 


130  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

A  MOTHEIl   FROM   WALES. 

"0  my  God,  my  soul  is  cast  down  within  mc; 
therefore  will  1  remember  thee  from  the  land  of  Jor- 
dan, and  of  the  Hcrmonites,  from  tlic  hill  Mizar." 
Psa.  42  : 6. 

A  case  occurred  recently  which  may  prove  a  salu- 
tary lesson  to  some  sinking  heart,  and  I  will  relate  it. 

I  called  the  other  afternoon  upon  a  Welsh  friend 
of  mine,  an  eminently  pious  woman,  and  found  her 
very  happy.  She  said  to  mo  in  the  sincere  and  sim- 
ple-hearted manner  of  her  people,  "  I  have  been  in  the 
depths.  My  son  Tom,  who  you  know  sliipped  as  a 
sailor  last  summer,  has  not  written  for  a  long  time, 
and  when  he  left  me,  he  seemed  not  very  far  from  the 
grave  with  some  hidden  disease.  He  may  now  be 
dying  of  the  consumption,  and  his  friends  unwilling 
to  alarm  me.  But  as  I  sat  thinking  of  this  a  while 
ago,  I  remembered  all  the  way  the  Lord  had  led  me 
through  the  wilderness.  I  spent  some  time  in  Wales, 
looking  at  my  Ebenezcrs  there,  and  then  I  came  back 
again  to  America,  and  reviewed  my  deliverances  here. 
And  now  I  know  that  the  Lord  will  keep  his  cove- 
nant with  me.  Oh,  blessed  be  his  name,  he  brings 
light  out  of  every  cloud.  I  am  so  happy,"  And  this 
joyful  Christian's  face  kindled  up  anew  with  the  glow 
of  her  believing  heart. 

As  we  sat  talking  of  God's  faithfulness,  rap,  rap, 
rap  went  a  fist  on  the  door,  and-  in  rushed  Tom — not 
the  poor  emaciated,  deathly-looking  boy  of  last  sum- 
mer, but  a  stalwart  sailor-lad,  entirely  recovered,  and 
throwing  himself  into  his  bewildered  mother's  arms 
with  a  hearty  cry  of  joy. 


A  MOTHER  FROM   WALES. 


1-31 


As  wc  were  uniting  our  hearts  in  mutual  saluta 
tions  and  thanks  to  God  for  his  goodness,  coming  as 
it  did  in  a  way  so  marked  with  the  stamp  of  peculiar 
providence,  there  seemed  but  one  thing  lacking  to 
make  our  family-meeting  and  its  joy  complete.  The 
father,  a  noble  and  true-hearted  old  Welshman  as 
ever  lived,  had  gone  to  the  interior  of  -Illinois  some 
months  previously,  in  search  of  a  home  for  his  dear 
ones  and  himself.  He  had  been  very  anxious  that 
this  son  when  he  returned  should  no  longer  go  to  sea  ; 
and  Oil,  if  he  could  know  that  this  wish  of  his  heart 
was  realized  by  the  assent  of  the  young  man ;  if  he 
could  have  met  and  rejoiced  with  us  over  the  hope  of 


132  SKETCHES   FROM  LIFE. 

seeing  his  family  undivided  around  their  western 
hearth,  and  mingled  liis  voice  and  his  tears  with  oura 
as  we  sat  overflowing  with  happiness,  what  could  we 
have  wanted  more  ? 

But  the  realization  of  the  present  mercy  would 
not  permit  its  vividness  of  pleasure  ,to  be  destroyed 
by  any  repining  considerations  like  these,  and  our 
happy  and  grateful  group  sat  communing  together 
until — hark !  another  rap,  shook  the  door  :  it  opened, 
and  there  stood  the  father  himself.  The  father  and 
the  son  meeting  from  opposite  sides  of  the  world ! 
Oh,  the  gladness  that  filled  that  house,  that  welled 
from  those  hearts  that  night !  They  could  hardly  be- 
lieve that  they  were  not  in  some  beautiful,  but  unnat- 
ural dream. 

Yes,  it  was  all  real.  The  father  had  a  story  to 
tell  of  a  home  made  ready  for  them  in  the  West ;  the 
sailor-boy  recounted  to .  them  his  perils  and  deliver- 
ances ;  the  young  children  mingled  their  glad  clamor 
with  the  voices  of  both ;  and  the  mother,  with  a  face 
that  shone  still  brighter  than  all,  looked  tearfully  up 
to  heaven,  and  gave  silent  thanks  to  her  Father's  new 
manifestation  of  light  out  of  darkness. 

A  Pastor  in  New  York. 


THE   FAITHFUL   NURSE. 

Mrs.  N ,  a  lady  of  eminent  piety,  was  remark- 
able for  her  great  attention  to  an  aged  domestic. 
On  being  asked  the  reason,  she  said,  "I  owe  her  a 
debt  of  gratitude  which  I  can  never  repay.  Under 
God,  she  was  the  instrument  of  my  conversion.  I 
was  brought  up  regardless  of  God,  ignorant  of  his 


A  FAITHFUL  NURSE.  133 

word,  always  mingling  in  gay,  fashionable  society. 
At  an  early  age  I  was  married,  and  gave  myself  up 
more  than  ever  to  a  life  of  pleasure.  For  a  few  years 
every  wish  of  my  heart  seemed  gratified,  when  my 
little  only  son,  three  years  old,  was  seized  with  a  sud- 
den and"  severe  illness.  A  few  days  of  extreme  suf- 
fering, and  he  was  snatched  from  me.  I  was  almost 
frantic;  I  raved  against  God  as  unmerciful  and  un- 
just, shut  myself  up  in  my  apartment,  and  "refused  all 
consolation,  even  the  sympathy  of  friends. 

My  health  became  so  impaired,  that  my  physician 
advised  my  husband  to  take  a  tour  in  Europe  with  me, 
and  try  what  change  of  climate  and  scene  could  do. 
My  old  nurse  was  sent  for  to  accompany  me.  Since  I 
had  seen  her  she  had  become  a  faithful  follower  of 
Christ,  and  was  prepared  not  only  to  administer  to  my 
physical  wants,  but  to  my  still  greater  spiritual  need. 

Ellen  knew  that  the  great  Physician  of  souls  could 
alone  restore  me,  and  she  took  every  opportunity  to 
lead  me  to  him.  At  first  I  would  not  listen  to  her, 
and  requested  her  to  stop  canting,  but  she  was  not 
discouraged,  and  patiently  bore  my  fretfulness.  I 
was  not  unobservant  of  the  great  change  in  her  char- 
acter. Sometimes  with  tearful  eye  she  would  repeat 
a  precious  invitation  from  God's  word,  ae,  "  Come 
unto  me,  all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy-laden,  and  I 
will  give  you  rest." 

One  day,  feeling  more  gloomy  and  desolate  than 
ever,  I  consented  to  her  earnest  entreaty  that  she 
might  bring  her  Bible  and  read  to  me  a  few  passa- 
ges. It  was  a  new  book  to  me.  I  had  a  Bible, 
though  always  unopened,  and  occasionally  I  attended 
upon  the  service  of  a  fashionable  church. 


134  SKETCHES   FROM  LIFE. 

As  Ellen  read  verse  after  verse,  I  became  inter- 
ested ;  she  explained  its  truths  with  so  much  simplic- 
ity, and  made  the  way  of  salvation  so  clear  and  plain. 
The  Holy  Spirit  carried  the  truth  home  to  my  heart, 
my  darkened  understanding  became  enlightened,  and 
I  found  sweet  peace  in  believing.  It  was  not  long  be- 
fore I  could  exclaim  with  the  patriarch  Job,  "  Though 
He  slay  me,  yet  will  I  trust  in  him."  I  could  bless 
my  heavenly  Father  for  the  stroke  that  had  brought 
me  to  him.  Oh  the  preciousness  of  a  new-found  Sav- 
iour. With  peace  of  mind  my  health  was  gradually 
restored,  and  I  was  soon  permitted  to  return  home  and 
unite  myself  with  the  people  of  God. 


A   SICK  MAN    OF   THE   SOUTH.     " 

During  the  winter  of  184-  the  writer  was  residing 

in  the  city  of  S ,  whither  he  had  gone  to  enjoy 

the  advantages  of  a  southern  climate. 

In  the  month  of  December,  the  minister  of  one  of 
the  churches  requested  him,  with  a  companion,  to  visit 
a  sick  person  whom  he  had  discovered  in  the  outskirts 
of  the  city.  We  promised  to  comply  with  his  yequest, 
and  forthwith  set  out  on  our  mission.  Passing  the 
residences  of  the  better  classes,  we  at  length  came  to 
a  wretched  suburb,  whose  miserable  huts  were  to  all 
appearance  the  abodes  of  poverty  and  vice. 

In  a  low  shanty  we  found  the  object  of  our  search, 
a  man  about  forty-five  years  of  age.  We  learned  from 
him  that  he  had  once  been  quite  athletic,  but  from 
his  occupation  as  a  wood-cutter,  he  had  often  stood  in. 
the  water  in  the  swamps,  and  thus,  some  ten  years 


A  SICK   MAN  OF  THE  SOUTH.  135 

previous,  liad  contracted  a  disease  which  had  wasted 
his  bod}',  and  Avas  now  fast  hurrying  him  to  the  grave. 
His  mind  was  weak  and  uncultivated ;  he  could  not 
read,  and  as  he  had  seldom,  if  ever,  been  to  church,  he 
seemed  to  have  not  the  slightest  knowledge  of  the  gos- 
pel plan  of  salvation.  Besides,  he  had  been  in  a  great 
measure  deprived  of  his  hearing,  and  it  was  only  by 
placing  the  mouth  close  to  his  ear,  and  speaking  in  a 
loud  tone,  that  any  communication  could  be  made  to 
him.  In  addition  to  this,  there  was  an  utter  indiffer- 
ence to  the  subject  of  religion,  and  as  if  to  get  rid  of 
US;  he  said  it  was  of  no  use  to  talk  to  him,  for  he  had 
not  sense  enough  to  understand  about  the  Saviour. 
Our  only  plan  was  to  teach  him  orally,  and  this  we 
did  by  having  him  repeat  after  us  the  great  truths  of 
the  gospel. 

Week  after  week  wo  visited  him,  and  were  almost 
disheartened  to  perceive  how  mechanically  he  repeat- 
ed our  words,  and  how  little  he  understood  of  their 
meaning;  it  indeed  seemed  tliat  he  had  not  mind 
enough  to  comprehend  the  way  of  salvation,  simple  as 
it  is.  By  degrees,  however,  he  understood  more  of 
our  teachings,  but  then  was  manifested  that  disposi- 
tion so  natural  to  the  carnal  heart,  a  reliance  on  his 
own  righteousness.  Again  and  again  did  we  explain 
its  insufficiency  to  meet  the  law  of  God ;  but  to  our 
question,  "  Can  you  reach  heaven  by  doing  good?''  he 
invariably  answered,  "Yes." 

After  some  two  months  the  light  dawned  in  that 
darkened  heart ;  the  Spirit  revealed  to  him  his  vile- 
ness,  and  led  him  by  faitli  to  rely  on  his  Saviour,  and 
on  him  alone.  He  obtained  a  hope  of  pardon,  and 
enjoyed  that  sweet  peace  which  flows  from  a  sense  of 


136  SKETCHES   FROM  LIFE. 

acceptance  with  God.  From  this  time  his  views  were 
clear  and  his  evidences  bright ;  he  became  like  a  lit- 
tle child ;  such  was  the  simplicity  and  sweetness  of  his 
piety,  so  naturally  did  he  express  the  feelings  of  the 
renewed  heart,  that,  in  the  language  of  a  Christian 
friend  whom  we  took  to  visit  him,  it  was  a  pleasure 
and  a  privilege  to  converse  with  him.  He  was  per- 
mitted publicly  to  profess  Christ,  and  was  received 
into  the  church  of  God. 

On  one  occasion,  when  asked  where  he  would  look 
to  obtain  the  deepest  sense  of  the  odiousness  of  sin, 
he  replied,  "  To  the  Saviour."  Doubting  whether  we 
understood  him,  he  was  requested  to  explain,  and  we 
found  that  he  indeed  meant  that  on  the  cross  was  the 
guilt  of  sin  displayed  in  its  blackest  hue. 

By  the  month  of  April  his  disease  had  progressed 
so  far  that  it  prevented  his  lying  down  at  night ;  he 
said  to  us  that  as  ho.  sat  sleepless  by  his  fire,  "  All  my 
study  is  about  Christ."  In  expressing  the  precious- 
ness  of  his  hope,  he  said  he  would  not  part  with  it  for 
the  whole  city  of  S . 

I,  F lived  about  a  year  after  this,  manifesting 

in  his  life  the  reality  of  his  conversion,  and  then,  we 
cannot  doubt,  fell  asleep  in  Jesus.  His  body  rests 
among  the  graves  of  the  poor ;  no  stone  marks  the 
spot,  no  inscription  tells  of  his  humble  piety,  but  his 
record  is  on  high,  and  he  shall  be  the  Lord's  in  that 
day  when  he  makes  up  his  jewels. 

We  have  in  the  history  of  this  conversion  a  tri- 
umph of  divine  grace. 

1.  A  triumph  over  circumstances  most  wifavorable — 
a  man  ignorant,  enfeebled  in  mind,  cut  off  in  a  great 
measure  from  conversation,  yet  changed  and  exhibit- 


A  SICK  MAN  OF  THE  SOUTH.  137 

ing  a  degree  of  intelligence  which  seemed  hardly  pos- 
sible in  his  case.  Truly  this  scripture  was  fulfilled, 
"  The  entrance  of  thy  words  giveth  light ;  it  giveth 
understanding  to  the  simple."  "  Here  was  an  enlarge- 
ment and  elevation  of  thought  in  an  uncultivated  and 
unintellectual  mind — an  earnest  of  the  restoration  of 
man  to  his  original  glory,  when  every  intellectual 
power,  as  well  as  every  spiritual  faculty,  is  filled  with 
'all  the  fulness  of  God.'" 

2.  A  triumph  ove?-  the  power  of  sin  and  Satan.  For 
nearly  fifty  years  had  the  strong  man  armed  k^t  his 
palace  and  his  goods  in  peace  ;  but  a  stronger  than  he 
came  upon  him  and  overcame  him,  took  from  him  that 
ignorance  and  indifference  in  which  he  trusted,  en- 
lightened the  dark  mind,  softened  the  hard  heart,  and 
made  this  precious  soul  a  trophy  of  redeeming  love. 

3.  A  triumph  over  doubtings  and  wibelief.  More 
than  ouce  had  we  almost  despaired  of  doing  this  poor 
man  any  good,  so  difiicult  seemed  the  work.  God 
rebuked  our  want  of  faith,  and  glorified  the  power  of 
his  grace.  There  is  no  ignorance,  obstinacy,  or  hard- 
ness of  heart  which  is  beyond  the  mighty  power  of  the 
grace  of  God. 

And  lastly,  we  have  an  illustration  of  the  impor- 
tance of  the  aggressive  principle  in  religion.  Had  not 
Providence  led  us  to  search  out  this  poor  man,  to  visit 
him  repeatedly,  to  tell  him  of  the  Saviour,  in  all  prob- 
ability he  would  have  perished  in  his  sins.  He  is  but 
the  representative  of  a  large  class  in  cities  and  in  the 
country  who  are  unable  or  unwilling  to  read  the  Bible 
and  to  hear  the  gospel,  and  who,  if  they  are  ever  to 
be  benefited,  must  be  sought  out  in  our  lanes  and 
alleys  and  unfrequented  neighborhoods.     The  gospel 


138  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

must  be  carried  to  their  houses,  and  Christian  men 
and  women,  with  hearts  of  love  and  words  of  kind- 
ness, must  tell  them  of  their  perishing  need,  and  point 
them  to  "the  Lamb  of  God  that  taketh  away  the  sin 
of  the  world.'"'  Header,  here  is  a  field  of  usefulness 
open  to  )'ou.  Though  you  have  but  one  talent,  it 
may  liere  be  so  employed  that  it  will  bring  a  rich  re- 
turn. "  To  him  that  knoweth  to  do  good  and  doeth 
it  not,  to  him  it  is  sin."  This  is  the  field  occupied  by 
the  American  Tract  Society ;  tluis  "  to  tlie  poor  the 
gosp61  is  preached.''  i.  a.  s. 


THE   FIRST   AND   LAST   COMMUXION. 

It  was  a  chill  morning  of  the  first  Sabbath  in 

November,  when  the congregation  assembled  to 

obey  the  last  command  of  their  dying  Lord,  "  Do  this 
in  remembrance  of  me."  The  table  was  spread  with 
the  emblems  of  his  broken  body  and  slicd  blood  :  still 
the  pastor  deferred  entering  upon  the  service ;  there 
were  anxious  looks  towards  the  door,  while  a  pew 
evidently  prepared  for  an  invalid  was  still  unoccu- 
pied. 

It  was  generally  known,  that  among  the  candidates 

for  admission,  Sarah  D had  been  received,  and' it 

was  much  feared  that  she  would  not  be  able  to  attend 
this  her  first,  and  in  all  probability  her  last  commun- 
ion ;  and  all  who  knew  her,  hoped  that  she  would  not 
encounter  such  weather,  with  her  slight  hold  on  life. 
But  they  were  not  long  kept  in  doubt.  The  door 
opened.  For  the  first  time  in  many  months  she  en- 
tered the  sanctuary  of  God.     Supported  by  her  broth- 


THE  FIRST  AND  LAST  COMMUNION.         139 

cr,  she  came  feebly  up  the  aisle.  Every  eye  turned 
involuntarily  upon  her,  but  as  quickly  was  inverted. 
Not  one,  I  am  sure,  in  that  large  assembly  was  tear- 
less, as  they  saw  the  ravages  disease  had  made  upon 
that  once  blooming  face,  and  how  death  had  marked 
her  for  his  own.  She  alone  was  composed,  for  she 
knew  it  all.  There  was  a  calm,  sweet  expression, 
which  bespoke  an  inward  joy  and  peace  unshaken ; 
for  now  the  long  desire  of  her  heart  was  to  be  grati- 
fied.    She  was  to  confess  her  Saviour  before  men. 

The  pastor  rose,  and  after  looking  to  God  for  a 
blessing,  requested  those  who  were  to  take  upon  them- 
selves their  covenant  vows  to  come  forward.  There 
was  an  effort  to  rise  by  the  young  invalid,  but  the 
pastor  beckoned  her  to  remain  seated.  While  with 
solemn  though  tremulous  voice  he  proceeded  with  the 
forms  of  admission  to  the  church,  much  he  feared  that 
she  might  even  then  pass  up  to  the  marriage-supper  of 
the  Larab.  He  had  heard  her  oft-repeated  prayer  for 
this  privilege,  and  the  expression  of  her  confidence 
tlmt  the  sure  promise  would  not  fail,  "  My  strength  is 
sufficient  for  thee."-  How  many  hearts  went  up  to 
God  in  her  behalf — not  that  her  life  might  be  spared, 
for  God  had  settled  that  point,  but  that  his  presence 
might  continue  with  her,  and  bear  her  rejoicing  through 
the  dark  valley,  and  bind  up  the  bleeding  hearts  of  her 
afflicted  parents,  and  that  devoted  only  brother. 

The  service,  always  deeply  impressive,  was  now 
peculiarly  so.  She  seemed  to  stand  a  link  between 
the  living  and  the  dead.  Never  did  I  realize  the 
preciousness  of  a  Saviour's  love  so  fully,  as  when  I  sat 
at  his  table  with  that  dying  girl,  and  with  the  eye  of 
faith  saw  her  spirit,  washed  in  the  blood  of  Jesus,  pass- 


140  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

ing  the  portals  of  heaven.  I  had  been  much  with  her 
through  her  long  sickness,  knew  how  she  had  clung 
to  life,  how  strong  were  its  ties  for  her,  the  child  of 
affluence,  and  an  only  idolized  daughter.  I  had  often 
pleaded  with  her  to  commit  all  into  the  hands  of 
God — had  watched  with  intense  interest  the  struggle 
going  on  in  her  own  mind,  and  God's  dealings  with 
her ;  at  last  had  seen  grace  triumphing  over  doubts 
and  fears,  and  heard  her  sweetly  submissive,  yea,  re- 
joicing, utter  the  words  of  the  psalmist,  "  Before  I 
was  afflicted,  I  went  astray  ;  but  now  keep  I  thy  word." 
Oh,  how  much  had  a  pious  mother's  instructions  and 
wrestling  prayers  been  instrumental  in  it.  God  sel- 
dom fails  to  bless  such  means. 

After  this  precious  communion-season  was  over, 
and  the  benediction  had  been  pronounced,  no  one  ven- 
tured to  approach  the  young  invalid,  feeling  that  she 
must  be  too  much  exhausted.  She  sent  her  brother, 
requesting  me  to  come  to  her.  When  I  went,  she 
said,  "  Will  you  go  without  welcoming  me  as  one  of 
the  lambs  of  the  flock?  Oh,  what  a  precious,  pre- 
cious privilege,  that  God  should  have  permitted  me  to 
come  as  one  of  his  own  chosen  ones!" 

Months  passed,  and  again  we  gathered  to  renew 
our  covenant  vows  around  the  table  of  our  common 
Lord.  Sarah  was  not  there ;  she  had  gone  to  tlie 
upper  sanctuary,  to  the  marriage-supper  of  the  Lamb, 

"  Where  the  smile  of  the  Lord  is  the  feast  of  the  soul." 
She  had  lingered  long  on  the  confines  of  the  tomb, 
and  even  so  far  revived  as  to  be  carried  to  a  balmier 
clime,  her  friends  hoping  to  prolong  life ;  but  they 
were  compelled  to  hasten  back  to  gratify  her  last 
wish,  of  looking  once  more  upon  the  home  of  her  child- 


A   DYING  SON.  141 

hood,  and  to  be  laid  in  the  village  graveyard  beside 
one  to  whom  she  had  given  her  first  affections,  and 
who  had  gone  before  her  a  victim  to  the  same  insidi- 
ous disease  which  was  cutting  her  down.  Much  she 
hoped  once  more  to  enter  the  sanctuary  of  God  and 
commemorate  the  Saviour's  love,  but  he  had  ordered 
otherwise.     Her  first  was  her  last  communion,      s. 


A  DYING   SOX. 

Mrs.  ■  was  the  widow  of  a  prosperous  mer- 
chant; his  life,  after  he  made  a  profession  of  religion, 
was  exemplary  and  eminently  useful.  His  conversion 
could  be  distinctly  traced  to  the  prayers  and  faithful- 
ness of  his  wife.  When  left  a  widow,  she  devoted 
herself  with  great  earnestness  to  the  spiritual  inter- 
ests of  her  family.  She  had  two  sons  and  a  daugh- 
ter. Her  influence  was  also  felt  in  the  church ;  she 
was  a  mother  in  Israel.  Many,  it  is  believed,  will 
rise  up  and  call  her  blessed.  Her  eldest  son  became 
a  highly  respectable  and  useful  minister  of  the  gospel. 

The  younger  son  became  a  merchant  in  the  city 
where  he  grew  up.  In  a  revival  of  religion  he  be- 
came a  subject  of  grace,  and  united  with  the  church. 
He  settled  in  life  under  favorable  circumstances,  be- 
came eminent  in  his  calling,  and  filled  a  large  place 
in  the  community.  His  respected  mother  lived  near 
him,  and  never  failed  to  aid  him  by  her  counsels,  for 
she  was  endowed  with  great  good  sense  as  well  as 
deep  and  living  piety. 

Some  years  ago  she  was  called  to  part  with  this 
her  youngest  son.      When  she  saw  that  he  must  die. 


142  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

the  trial  at  first  seemed  too  great  for  her  to  bear. 
He  had  an  interesting  family.  But  she  was  enabled 
to  roll  her  burdens  on  the  Lord.  This  son  had  always 
been  sober-minded  and  moral.  She  had  reason  to 
hope  he  was  pious ;  he  had  been  a  man  of  prayer. 
But  when  he  was  visited  with  his  last  sickness,  the 
anxious  and  faithful  mother  did  not  feel  fully  satis- 
fied. She  took  her  seat  by  his  sick-bed,  and  held  the 
following  conversation  with  him. 

"  My  son,  we  may  fear  for  the  result  of  this  ill- 
ness.    Are  you  prepared  to  exchange  worlds?" 

He  paused  to  reflect,  and  replied,  "  I  hope  I  am." 

After  some  remarks  upon  the  solemnity  of  dying, 
and  the  fulness  of  Christ,  she  said  to  him  with  great 

seriousness,  "  J ,  I  have  never  been  quite  satisfied 

with  your  appearance  as  a  Christian.  I  fear  there  is 
something  wanting.  You  do  not  seem  to  have  a  lively 
hope,  a  joy  in  believing.  There  has  not  been  enough 
of  Christ  in  your  experience;  you  do  not  seem  to 
make  enough  of  Christ ;  he  is  all  in  all,  the  chief 
among  ten  thousand.  I  want  you  to  look  into  this 
matter.  I  have  found  no  fault  with  your  outward 
deportment,  your  external  duties;  but  morality  can- 
not save  you,  you  must  trust  in  Christ  alone." 

He  said  he  understood  her,  and  would  give  atten- 
tion to  the  subject.  She  withdrew  aiM  poured  out  her 
soul  in  prayer  in  her  closet,  that  Jesus  would  reveal 
himself  to  her  dying  son.  Early  the  next  morning 
she  was  called  into  his  room.  A  change  had  come 
over  him ;  his  countenance  no  longer  bore  the  marks 
of  gloom  ;  the  dark  cloud  had  passed  away.  "  Moth- 
er," said  he,  "you  were  right.  I  see  there  was  a 
great  deficiency.     I  have  been  enabled  to  give  myself 


A   DYING  SON. 


143 


anew  to  Christ,  and  he  has  revealed  himself  to  my 
soul.  I  have  a  joy  I  never  knew  before,  I  see  a  glory 
in  the  gospel  that  is  new.     Christ  is  my  all." 

After  a  pause,  he  said  to  his  mother,  "  When  I 
was  young,  I  used  to  ihink  you  were  too  strict  with 
mc.  I  was  kept  in  at  night  against  my  will ;  I  was 
not  allowed  much  spending  money,  and  was  prevented 
from  mingling  with  rude  boys.  I  often  complained, 
but  I  see  you  were  right ;  I  knew  you  were  at  the 
time,  but  was  unwilling  to  acknowledge  it.  I  thank 
you  for  your  faithfulness ;  if  I  have  ever  done  any 
good  in  the  world,  I  owe  it  to  your  prayers  and  fidel- 
ity." Placing  his  arms  around  her  neck,  he  exclaimed, 
"  0  mother,  blessed  art  thou  among  women !"  These 
were  amonor  his  last  words.  T. 


'  Vx  J"  ikU 


144  SKETCHES   FROM  LIFE. 


DEATH. 


A   VriFE    AND    MOTHER. 

Addison  has^  rcmarlvcd,  that  there  was  nothing  in 
history  which  interested  and  affected  him  more  deeply 
than  the  conduct  of  eminent  persons  in  a  dying  hour. 
"  If  I  were  a  maker  of  books,"  says  Montaigne,  "  I 
would  compile  a  register,  with  comments  on  various 
deaths ;  for  he  who  should  teach  men  to  die,  would 
teach  them  to  live."  There  are  few  who  cannot  sym- 
pathize with  these  sentiments,  for  every  reflective 
mind  will  linger  around  the  dying  bed : 

"  Death  only  is  the  fate  which  none  can  miss." 

In  the  course  of  a  ministry  of  nearly  twenty  years, 
.it  has  been  often  my  privilege  to  stand  by  the  bedside 
of  the  dying,  and  to  witness  scenes,  both  of  remorse 
and  of  triumph,  which  no  pen  can  adequately  describe. 
One  scene  of  joy,  where  the  king  of  terrors  was  trans- 
formed into  a  smiling  angel  of  mercy,  I  will  endeavor, 
though  it  must  be  faintly,  to  portray. 

It  was  a  beautiful  afternoon  in  August,  when  I 
entered  a  rural  dwelling  adorned  with  all  the  com- 
forts and  refinements  of  abundant  competence,  to  call 
upon  a  lady  who  for  several  months  had  been  sinking 
in  a  decline.  I  had  often,  during  the  progress  of  her 
lingering  disease,  visited  her  and  prayed  at  her  bed- 
side. A  glance  of  the  eye  as  I  entered  the  room, 
assured  me  that  this  was  my  last  call,  for  she  was 
evidently  dying.  She  was  reposing  pillowed  upon 
her  bed,  with  an  unnatural  lustre  in  her  dying  eye, 


A  WIFE  AND  MOTHER.  145 

and  with  cheek  and  brow  of  almost  marble  whiteness. 
Tlic  windows  of  the  room  were  open,  and  a  gentle 
summer  breeze  breathed  softly  over  the  fragrant  flow- 
ers and  shrubs,  which  witli  their  luxuriant  verdure 
partially  veiled  the  light  of  the  sun,  and  threw  in 
beautiful  tracery  upon  the  bed  the  shadow  of  twig 
and  leaf  and  blossom.  It  was  a  silent  summer's  day. 
There  was  not  even  a  sigh  in  the  zephyrs  which  waft- 
ed grateful  odors  over  the  dying  bed,  and  not  a  sound 
could  be  heard,  save  the  plaintive  notes  of  the  birds, 
nestling  in  the  abundant  foliage  with  which  the  dwell- 
ing was  almost  embowered. 

Every  voice  with  which  nature  speaks  is  in  har- 
mony with  those  scenes  of  decay  and  death  to  which 
all  nature  is  consigned.  The  song  of  the  bird,  the 
chirp  of  the  insect,  the  murmur  of  the  stream,  the 
sighing  of  the  wind,  are  all  plaintive  in  their  charac- 
ter. Nature  is  pensive  in  all  her  utterances.  The 
swelling  and  dying  tones  of  the  Eolian  harp  seem  to 
be  the  musical  expression  of  the  Author  of  nature  in 
view  of  these  scenes  of  time. 

The  husband  and  the  children  of  the  young  wife 
and  mother  were  gathered  around  the  dying  bed. 
The  beauty  of  youth  was  still  spread  over  those  fea- 
tures, upon  which  the  pallor  of  death  was  fast  passing. 
I  had  often  been  struck  with  the  fluent,  melodious,  and 
accurate  diction  with  which  my  dying  friend  could 
give  utterance  to  all  the  emotions  of  her  heart,  and 
tlie  peculiar  richness  of  all  the  intonations  of  her 
voice.  As  I  entered  the  room  she  raised  her  eyes, 
and  extending  her  hand  to  me,  with  the  sweetest  smile 
exclaimed,  "You  have  come  to  see  me  die.''  And 
then,  with  a  renewed  smile  of  almost  preternatural 


146  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

peace  and  loveliness,  she  added,  "  It  is  a  vei-y  pleasant 
thing — a  very  'pleasant  thing  to  die.  And  when,  after 
ray  spirit  has  passed  away,  you  hereafter  speak  to  my 
children  of  their  departed  mother,  I  hope  that  you 
will  always  speak  with  a  smiling  countenance  and  in 
cheerful  tones,  that  they  may  have  pleasurable  ideas 
associated  with  my  death  ;  for  it  is  a  pleasant  thing, 
a  very  pleasant  thing  to  die." 

She  was  gently  breathing,  with  no  pain  and  no 
agitation.  Her  mind  was  as  calm,  clear,  and  vigor- 
ous as  ever.  Though  she  spoke  in  tones  soft  and  sub- 
dued, every  word  she  uttered  came  from  her  lips  with 
the  utmost  distinctness  and  precision.  Turning  her 
eye  to  her  husband,  whose  hand  she  held,  she  remark- 
ed, "  I  know  perfectly  that  I  am  dying.  I  feel  the 
peculiar  separation  which  is  taking  place  between  the 
body  and  the  spirit.  My  sensations  are  such  as  can- 
not be  mistaken.  I  have  never  experienced  such  be- 
fore ;  no  language  can  describe  them.  But  I  am  fast 
going.  I  shall  soon  be  gone.  Farewell,  farewell ;" 
and  her  eye  was  fixed,  and  nothing  remained  but  the 
lifeless  clay. 

This  was  indeed  falling  asleep  in  Jesus.  She  had 
chosen  the  Saviour  for  her  friend  in  early  life.  She 
had  been  cheered  by  those  consolations  which  piety 
alone  can  give,  through  all  the  trials  of  her  earthly 
lot.  And  when  the  dying  hour  came,  faith  disarmed 
the  king  of  terrors,  and  enabled  her  to  exclaim,  "  0 
death,  where  is  thy  sting?  0  grave,  where  is  thy 
victory?"  Who,  in  view  of  such  scenes  as  these,  will 
not  breathe  the  prayer,  "Let  me  die  the  death  of  the 
righteous,  and  let  my  last  end  be  like  his?" 

J.  C.  S.  Abbott. 


A  SUFFERING  CHRISTIAN.  14T 

A   SUFFERING  CHEISTIAN. 

Now  and  then  there  have  been  experienced  lead- 
ers in  the  host  of  God's  elect,  who,  like  Payson,  have 
written  as  from  the  land  of  Beulah,  with  the  celes- 
tial city  full  in  view ;  and  with  powers  of  expression 
perfected  by  use,  they  have  been  able  to  tell  us  much 
of  the  joy  set  before  them,  and  already  filling  their 
enraptured  souls. 

But  these  cases  are  rare.  And  when  the  death- 
scene  of  one  in  obscure  life,  a  private  only,  and  not  a 
standard-bearer  in  the  army  of  the  Lord  of  hosts,  is 
such  as  preeminently  to  glorify  God,  the  memory  of 
it  ought  to  be  preserved  as  the  sacred  property  of  the 
church,  while  we  are  following  those  who  through 
faith  and  patience  have  inherited  the  promises. 

It  was  in  an  obscure  upper  room  in  the  rear,  se- 
cluded from  observation,  that  she  of  whom  we  record 
these  particulars  fell  asleep  in  Jesus.  But  as  the 
happy  saint  lay  dying,  that  homely,  uncommodious 
apartment  seemed  to  mc  to  shine  with  the  splendor 
of  holiness,  and  it  was  graced  with  a  spiritual  pres- 
ence which  the  gorgeous  palaces  of  the  rich  seldom 
know.  They  that  are  said  in  Scripture  to  "  minister 
unto  those  that  shall  be  heirs  of  salvation,"  were  be- 
side that  humble  bed.  They  show  their  radiant  forms 
to  the  ravished  eyes  of  the  dying  one;  they  chant 
sweet  music  in  her  ears ;  thoy  drop  blest  influences 
around  the  couch : 

Hark !  they  whisper  ;  angels  say, 
Sister  spirit,  come  away. 

It  was  meet  that  angels  should  thus  come  to  make 
death  triumphant  and  happy  to  one  who  had  been  so 


148  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

long  a  sufferer,  even  as  it  was  that  they  should  carry 

poor  Lazarus  to  Abraham's  bosom.     Adeline  C 

had  been  for  many  years  a  helpless  sufferer,  unable  to 
■walk.  But  though  shut  up  from  the  Sabbath-school, 
and  the  innocent  sports  and  studies  of  youth,  she  was 
a  patient,  even  a  cheerful  sufferer.  For  more  than 
three  years  she  had  been  loving  the  Saviour,  and  at 
her  request  she  had  been  baptized  when  she  was  so 
weak  as  scarcely  to  be  able  to  support  her  own  body. 

Since  that  profession  of  her  faith,  though  before 
uniformly  timid  and  diffident,  her  soul  had  been  evi- 
dently growing  into  the  likeness  of  her  Saviour,  and 
he  had  often  manifested  himself  unto  her  as  he  does 
not  unto  the  world.  His  name  was  music  to  her  ear ; 
and  a  few  friends  would  often  call  and  sing  those 
songs  of  Zion  which  she  loved,  when  her  large  bright 
eyes  would  grow  brighter,  and  her  interesting  face 
assume  a  more  animated  and  intelligent  glow. 

As  her  disease  advanced,  she  told  her  mother  she 
felt  glad  at  the  appearance  of  a  certain  symptom, 
"  for  she  knew  now  it  could  not  be  long  before  she 
should  be  released."  Three  days  before  she  expired, 
it  was  observed  by  those  with  her  that  she  was  sud- 
denly growing  very  ill,  and  her  mother,  not  ready  to 
part  with  one  she  had  so  long  attended  and  become 
the  more  endeared  to  by  her  patient  suffering,  with  a 
burst  of  sorrow  left  the  room.  Adeline  observed  it, 
and  judging  that  they  thought  her  dying,  asked  if  it 
were  so.  Being  answered  that  death  must  be  very 
near,  she  seemed  for  a  few  minutes  discomposed  and 
uneasy.  But  the  cloud  soon  passed ;  and  on  her  moth- 
er's coming  again  to  her  bed,  she  said,  "  Mother,  why 
should  I  shrink  or  fear  to  die  ?     I  think  I  have  loved 


A  SUFFERING  CHRISTIAN.  149 

tlic  Saviour.  lie  will  take  me  to  himself.  It  was 
tlie  cucmy  that  made  me  for  a  moment  doubt.  I  have 
no  fear  now." 

The  Sun  of  righteousness  after  this  shone  clear 
upon  her.  Her  peace  was  like  a  river,  full,  flowing, 
unruffled.  Not  an  anxiety  or  doubt  for  the  future 
once  interrupted  her  holy  rapture.  It  was  "joy  un- 
speakable and  full  of  glory."  Whether  in  the  body 
or  out  of  the  body,  it  seemed,  like  Paul,  she  could 
hardly  tell ;  but  evidently  the  spiritual  world  was 
opened  to  her ;  its  unutterable  glories  beamed  upon 
her  soul ;  its  music  caught  her  ravished  ear ;  its  spirit 
was  breathed  into  her  heart ;  and  her  face  became,  as 
it  were,  transfigured,  and  it  shone  with  a  heavenly 
radiance  and  benignity,  noticeable  by  all  that  looked 
upon  her. 

She  lay  looking  upward,  her  dark  eyes  glowing 
with  an  unearthly  but  beautiful  lustre,  seemingly  ab- 
sorbed with  subjects  that  gave  her  the  most  exquisite 
delight ;  and  she  would  say,  "  Oh,  could  you  see  what 
I  see !  'T  is  unspeakable.  Oh,  what  beautiful  bright- 
ness!    'T  is  Jesus  and  the  angels." 

AVhen  Christian  friends  called,  she  would  look  on 
them  with  benignity,  and  speak  to  them  with  great 
gentleness  and  cordiality,  and  then  become  absorbed 
again  in  holy  contemplation.  Once  as  her  attention 
was  called  off,  she  looked  with  an  expression  of  aston- 
ishment upon  her  bed  and  person,  and  said,  "  Mother, 
am  I  in  the  body  ?»I  thought  I  was  with  my  Saviour." 
When  asked  if  she  would  not  be  moved,  "  No,  no," 
said  she,  "  I  lie  as  on  down — 

•  Jesus  can  make  a  dying  bed 
Feel  soft  as  downy  pillows  are.'  " 


150  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

Again,  when  asked  if  she  did  not  suffer,  "  No,"  said 
she,  "  my  body  is  dead ;  my  arms  have  no  feeling. 
Oh,  this  is  spirit,  this  is  spirit.  Would  I  could  tell 
you  what  I  enjoy ;  but  you  will  know  it  soon."  To 
her  mother  and  another  friend  she  said,  "  It  will  be 
but  a  short  parting ;  you  will  join  me  soon."  And 
then  she  sang, 

"  When  we  've  been  there  ten  thousand  years, 
1  Bright  shining  as  the  sun, 

.  "VVe  've  no  less  days  to  sing  God's  praise, 

I       •  Than  when  we  first  begun." 

A  short  time  before  her  last  breath  she  said,  "  My 
lips  grow  stiff;  I  cannot  speak  plain.  The  room  is 
growing  dark  now ;  I  cannot  see  your  faces.  But 
Oh,  that  brightness,  that  brightness !  There  will  be 
no  night  there.  Tell  me,  my  soul,  can  this  be  death  ? 
Oh,  how  peaceful,  peaceful !  Death  has  no  sting.  No, 
mother,  there  is  no  sting.  Oh,  if  I  could  tell  what 
I  feel!" 

A  minute  or  two  before  expiring,  she  was  heard  to 
say,  "  Come,  come,"  and  something  more  that  was  lost 
in  a  whisper  ;  and  she  sweetly  fell  asleep  in  Jesus, 
with  a  countenance  of  calm  delight,  the  last  impress 
and  suffusion  of  that  happy  spirit  upon  its  shell  of 
clay. 

"  Night-dews  fall  not  more  gently  to  the  ground, 
Nor  weary,  worn-out  winds  expire  so  soft." 

"  Let  me  die  the  death  of  the  righteous,  and  let  my 
last  end  be  like  his."  • 

It  was  the  afternoon  of  the  holy  Sabbath  wlien 
this  dear  disciple  was  taken  to  glory.  She  had  said 
in  the  morning,  "  the  angels  Avould  take  her  homo  be- 
fore night."     And  when  it  was  proposed  to  move  her 


A  POOR  WIDOW'S  SON.  151 

head,  thinking  it  might  give  relief,  "  Oh,  no,  no,"  she 
replied;  "don't  you  see  the  angels  by  me?"  Then 
she  told  her  mother,  "  To-day  I  shall  be  with  father 
and  Mary."  There  they  now  are  in  heaven,  with 
crowns  of  gold,  and  palms  in  their  hands,  singing 
with  angels,  Worthy  is  the  Lamb. 

A  single  remark  is  all  that  need  be  added  to  these 
brief  notices  of  one  of  God's  hidden  suffering  saints. 
How  desirable  to  the  Christian  pilgrim  is  such  an 
end — desirable  as  a  significant  seal  of  Christ's  pres- 
ence and  favor  ;  as  a  proof  to  the  world  of  the  power 
of  religion ;  and  as  the  most  satisfactory  consolation 
to  surviving  friends.  Christ,  so  manifesting  himself 
to  the  dying,  seems  the  more  precious  to  the  living. 
Faith  triumphing  over  the  agonies  of  dissolution, 
preaches  a  sermon  to  beholders  that  none  can  deride, 
gainsay,  or  resist.  And  friends  willingly  part  with 
their  loved  ones  when  they  thus  enter  into  the  joy  of 
their  Lord.  The  dying  of  the  unreconciled  is  dread- 
ful to  them  and  their  friends,  whether  it  be  with  se- 
vere physical  pains  or  not.  For  them  we  weep  bitter 
tears.  But  lamentation  and  death  are  swallowed  up 
in  victory  through  faith  in  Christ.  "  For  if  we  believe 
that  Jesus  died  and  rose  again,  even  so  them  also 
which  sleep  in  Jesus  will  God  bring  with  him." 

H.  T.  c. 


A  POOE  WIDOW'S   SON. 

There  is  so  admirable  a  diversity  in  God's  meth- 
ods of  bringing  sinners  to  himself,  together  with  so 
marvellous  a  uniforinity  as  to  that  which  is  essential, 
that  we  can  never  fail  of  deriving  some  instruction 


162  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

from  authentic  narratives  of  conversion.  If  those 
who  have  the  care  of  souls  would  oftener  make  rec- 
ords of  remarkable  facts  in'  their  pastoral  experience, 
they  might  contribute  largely  to  this  fund  of  evangel- 
ical information.  The  little  narrative  which  follows 
may  be  relied  upon,  as  containing  no  colors  of  fiction  ; 
indeed  it  has  been  prepared  on  the  principle  of  under- 
stating, rather  than  exaggerating  the  events  record- 
ed. For  obvious  reasons  all  the  names  have  been 
concealed. 

In  the  early  part  of  the  year  1847, 1  was  called  to 
visit  a  man  whom  I  shall  call  Gordon.  He  was  "  the 
only  son  of  his  mother,  and  she  was  a  widow."  They 
were  extremely  poor,  and  lived  in  an  attic  in  Bridge- 
street,  in  the  city  of  New  York,  The  aged  mother 
had  been  a  professing  Christian  for  many  years,  and 
had  brought  up  her  son,  during  his  childhood,  in  the 
knowledge  of  divine  truth.  But  he  afterwards  went 
very  far  astray,  wasted  his  substance,  and  at  the  time 
when  I  came  to  know  him,  was  entirely  dependent  on 
this  decrepit  and  feeble  parent.  He  seldom  attended 
any  place  of  worship,  and  was  in  all  respects  a  world- 
ly, careless,  and  unbelieving  man. 

For  a  year  or  two,  I  had  seen  him  only  at  rare 
intervals.  At  length  his  mother  informed  me  that 
Gordon  was  confined  to  the  house  with  a  cough.  I 
found  him  emaciated,  feeble,  and  with  marked  symp- 
toms of  consumption.  The  disease  came  upon  him 
with  steps  so  sure  and  rapid,  that  he  soon  gave  up 
every  hope  of  recovery.  In  this  state,  racked  with  a 
dreadful  cough,  and  with  bones  almost  piercing  his 
skin,  he  sat  in  his  chair  from  day  to  day,  being  scarce- 
ly able  to  move  about  the  room. 


A  POOR  WIDOWS  SON.  153 

I  early  began  to  talk  with  liim  on  religious  sub- 
jects. He  generally  heard  mc  with  a  kind  of  sullen 
respect,  which  showed  that  the  topic  was  unwelcome. 
As  he  afterwards  acknowledged,  he  felt  my  visits  to 
be  an  annoyance,  even  while  he  admitted  them  to  be 
tokens  of  friendship.  To  Mr.  Gale,  a  pious  friend, 
who  also  went  to  see  him,  Gordon  said  plainly,  "  Mr. 
Gale,  I  know  the  kindness  of  your  intention,  but  all 
this  talk  gives  me  pain,  and  does  me  no  manner  of 
good.  Indeed,  so  distressing  to  me  is  it  to  feel  un- 
able to  fall  in  with  your  views  and  those  of  my  minis- 
ter, that  if  I  were  a  rich  man,  I  would  take  ship,  go 
to  the  ends  of  the  earth,  and  die  there  among  stran- 
gers, where  no  one  should  concern  himself  about  my 
spiritual  state." 

This  perverseness  and  obstinacy  of  mind  remained 
for  some  weeks.  I  continued  to  see  him,  as  other 
duties  allowed,  and  Mr.  Gale  went  more  frequently, 
spending  hours  with  him  in  reading  the  Scriptures,  in 
conversation,  and  in  prayer.  Such  was  his  hardness, 
that  all  this  seemed  for  a  time  to  both  of  us  very  much 
like  laboring  against  hope.  Meanwhile,  his  poor  moth- 
er was  in  an  agony  of  soul  for  his  salvation,  which  she 
expressed  so  constantly  and  so  strongly  that  we  some- 
times feared  it  might  even  frustrate  the  end  she  had 
in  view,  by  confirming  him  in  his  disgust.  But  God 
had  purposes  of  mercy  which  we  did  not  comprehend. 
By  imperceptible  degrees,  the  truth  which  he  was  con- 
tinually hearing,  made  an  impression  on  his  heart. 
His  ear  was  opened.  One  degree  of  interest  succeed- 
ed another,  till  at  length  it  was  evident  that  Gordon 
was  under  the  enlightening  and  convincing  operations 
of  the  Holy  Spirit.     It  would  be  difficult  to  give  any 


154  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

distinct  account  of  this  gradation  of  feeling,  extend- 
ing as  it  did  tlirougli  montlis  ;  but  we  were  fully  per- 
suaded that  now  he  was  eagerly  and  importunately 
seeking  the  pardon  of  his  sins.  Now  he  listened  with 
surprising  earnestness ;  and  though  he  could  speak 
but  little,  he  joined  with  unwonted  fervor  in  the  pray- 
ers which  were  offered.  Still,  he  had  attained  to  no 
comfortable  light  as  to  the  way  of  access  to  an  offend- 
ed God. 

At  this  stage,  I  was  called  away  some  hundreds  of 
miles,  and  was  absent  about  five  weeks.  During  this 
period,  Mr.  Gale  was  faithfully  and  affectionately 
employed  in  laboring  with  the  poor  sufferer,  who 
declined  in  body  day  by  day.  On  returning  to  New 
York,  in  the  early  summer,  the  first  thing  I  did  after 
meeting  with  my  family,  was  to  hasten  to  Bridge- 
street,  to  ascend  the  narrow  stairway,  and  to  enter 
that  attic  chamber.  I  had  not  even  made  inquiry 
whether  Gordon  was  alive  or  dead.  On  entering  the 
room,  I  saw  him  seated  in  his  accustomed  place  by 
the  window.  He  was  even  thinner  and  more  pallid 
than  before.  But  there  were  smiles  on  his  sunken 
cheeks,  and  a  radiance  in  his  countenance,  and  a  beam- 
ing from  his  eye,  which  told  me  the  change  which  had 
been  wrought,  and  which  I  surely  can  never  forget. 
His  greeting  was  full  of  tenderness  and  love ;  and  so 
far  as  his  failing  organs  allowed,-  he  proceeded  to  tell 
me  the  story  of  his  redemption.  From  time  to  time, 
his  old  mother,  pouring  out  tears  of  joy,  took  up  the 
narrative,  and  supplied  the  deficiencies  of  his  account. 

Shortly  after  I  had  left  him  in  the  spring,  his  dis- 
tress became  more  poignant,  his  sense  of  sin  was  more 
overwhelming,  and  he  greatly  feared  lest  he  should 


A  POOR  WIDOW'S  SON.  155 

not  find  mercy.  Yet  his  mind  was  continually  direct- 
ed by  Mr.  Gale  to  the  person  and  work  of  Christ ;  to 
his  glorious  obedience ;  to  his  death  on  the  cross  for 
sinners ;  and  to  the  full  and  free  offer  of  his  right- 
eousness to  all  who  hear  the  gospel. 

One  night,  as  he  lay  alone  in  a  little  room  adjoin- 
ing that  of  his  mother,  she  was  led  to  go  in,  as  she 
was  wont  to  do,  to  see  that  he  was  in  comfort,  when 
he  called  her  to  him,  and  declared  that  God  had  re- 
vealed to  him  his  love.  He  beheld  Christ  as  his  Sav- 
iour. He  saw  the  way  of  salvation  open,  and  the 
promise  made  good  to  him.  His  sins  were  pardoned, 
and  he  joyed  in  God,  through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
by  whom  he  was  now  receiving  reconciliation.  It 
was  a  change  from  night  to  day,  from  death  to  life. 
His  strength  was  insufficient  to  express  his  joyful  tri- 
umph. He  wished  all  in  the  house  to  be  called  up, 
that  they  might  hear  what  God  had  done  for  his  soul. 
In  a  word,  weak  as  he  was,  he  passed  a  large  part  of 
the  night  in  blessing  and  praising  God  for  his  distin- 
guishing grace. 

From  this  time  forward,  Gordon  was,  without  any 
intermission  that  I  remember,  one  of  the  happiest  crea- 
tures I  ever  beheld  ;  whereas  I  had  formerly  consid- 
ered him  one  of  the  most  miserable.  As  long  as  his 
voice  held  out,  he  was  never  weary  of  magnifying  the 
love  of  Christ. 

Nor  was  this  a  blind  or  enthusiastic  joy.  I  looked 
anxiously  to  observe,  during  the  few  weeks  which  re- 
mained, how  far  the  fruits  and  evidences  of  regener- 
ation might  be  manifested,  after  so  marked  a  revolu- 
tion of  feeling.  And  to  the  best  of  my  knowledge 
and  belief,  there  is  no  mark  of  genuine  sanctification, 


156  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

allowed  by  his  circumstances,  which  did  not  shine  in 
him.  A  few  of  these,  from  among  many,  shall  be 
mentioned. 

In  the  earlier  part  of  his  illness,  and  under  the 
irritating  influence  of  disease,  Gordon  was  fretful  and 
impatient  to  an  extraordinary  degree.  I  have  been 
filled  with  indignation  at  the  manner  in  which  he 
spoke  to  his  mother,  even  when  with  trembling  limbs 
she  was  attempting  every  thing  for  his  relief.  But 
now  he  was  one  of  the  gentlest  and  most  tender  sons. 
Words  could  scarcely  express  his  gratitude  and  affec- 
tion. 

When  we  first  addressed  him  on  religious  subjects, 
he  was  so  dull  and  lethargic  as  to  make  us  think  his 
malady  had  rendered  his  mind  incapable  of  deep  emo- 
tion. But  now,  both  his  griefs  and  his  joys  overflow- 
ed. His  penitence  for  a  life  of  sin  was  never  so  melt- 
ing as  after  he  saw  his  sins  forgiven  through  Jesus 
Christ.  His  mouth  was  full  of  God's  praise  all  the 
day  long,  for  having  borne  with  him,  and  for  having 
sent  spiritual  advisers  to  him.  He  once  said  to  me, 
with  memorable  solemnity,  "  My  dear  pastor,  let  my 
case,  teach  you  never,  never  to  give  up  striving  with  a 
poor  hardened  dying  sinner,  however  impenetrable  ho 
may  appear.  If  you  and  Mr.  Gale  had  given  me  up, 
my  soul  had  been  lost." 

Though  poor  Gordon  could  not  go  abroad  to  seek 
the  salvation  of  souls,  and  though  his  painful  and  de- 
bilitating malady  might  naturally  have  concentrated 
his  thoughts  on  himself,  he  was  much  exercised  for  the 
impenitent  around  him.  He  sent  for  such  as  were 
within  his  reach,  and  solemnly  exhorted  them  to  turn 
to  the  Lord.     He  sent  messages  to  others.     He  de- 


THE  DYING  REGRET.  157 

sired  that  as  many  as  possible  might  hear  of  the  Lord's 
mercy  towards  him.  And  during  a  few  days  in  which 
he  was  deprived  of  all  use  of  his  voice,  he  wrote  sen- 
tences of  Christian  warning  on  a  slate,  to  he  read  by 
visitors  who  might  enter  the  room. 

As  his  end  approached  more  nearly,  he  was  of 
course  less  and  less  able  to  make  known  what  was 
passing  within  him.  Yet  his  smile  and  his  eye,  and 
his  significant  gestures,  especially  in  reply  to  inquiries, 
showed  that  he  had  peace,  and  sometimes  exultation. 
So  that  when,  after  struggles  for  breath,  he  expired, 
we  all  felt  the  fullest  assurance  that  he  had  fallen 
asleep  in  Jesus.  J.  w.  a. 


THE  DYING  REGRET  OF  HARRIET. 

Harriet  B was  a  teacher  in  my  Sunday-school ; 

and  although  not  a  professor  of  religion,  she  was  far 
more  punctual  and  faithfid  to  her  duties  than  many 
that  were.  She  was  a  member  of  my  Bible-class,  and 
was  among  its  most  intelligent  and  interested  mem- 
bers. Soon  after  I  became  her  pastor,  attracted  by 
her  serious  deportment  and  intelligence,  I  sought  an 
interview  with  her  for  religious  conversation.  Al- 
though remarkably  diffident,  she  expressed  a  feeble 
but  intelligent  hope  in  Christ.  She  thoroughly  un- 
derstood her  demerits  as  a  sinner  ;  she  had  clear 
views  of  the  way  of  salvation  through  the  atonement 
and  righteousness  of  Christ ;  she  fully  comprehended 
the  great  truth,  t\mt  faith  is  the  saving  g-?-ace,  and  she 
hoped  she  did  believe  in  Christ. 

Having  ascertained  this  to  be  her  state  of  mind,  I 


158  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

placed  before  her  her  duty  to  connect  herself  with  the 
church  of  God.  She  expressed  her  great  unworthi- 
ness  of  such  a  privilege,  and  her  great  unfitness  for 
communion  with  the  saints.  She  spoke  much  of  her 
remaining  corruption,  of  her  varying  feelings,  of  her 
besetting  sins ;  and  she  expressed  it  as  her  convic- 
tion, that  none  should  attach  themselves  to  the  church 
until  they  were  assured  of  their  good  estate.  I  strove 
to  instruct  her  upon  the  difference  between /ai^A  and 
assurance.  She  soon  comprehended  me ;  and  feeling 
that  I  had  gained  my  point,  and  that  at  the  next  com- 
munion, which  was  then  near,  she  would  profess  faith 
in  Christ,  the  interview  closed. 

The  communion-season  came  and  passed  away,  and 
Harriet,  as  usual,  was  only  a  solemn  spectator  of  the 
solemn  scene.  Repeatedly  had  I  interviews  with  her 
similar  to  that  now  narrated,  and  at  the  close  of  which 
I  indulged  the  hope,  that  at  the  next  communion-sea- 
son she  would  connect  herself  with  the  church.  But 
these  hopes,  often  indulged,  were  as  often  disappoint- 
ed. Her  fidelity  to  her  Sabbath-school  class,  her  reg- 
ularity in  attendance  upon  all  the  means  of  grace,  her 
readiness  to  labor  for  the  cause  of  Christ,  never  in- 
termitted ;  but  communion-seasons  and  years  passed 
away  without  her  confessing  Christ  before  men. 

Late  on  a  summer  evening,  I  was  called  from  a 
social  circle  of  Christian  friends  to  see  Harriet  before 
she  died.  She  was  seized  with  a  fever,  which,  before 
it  was  feared,  had  almost  extinguished  life ;  and  before 
she  passed  away  from  earth,  she  desired  one  more 
interview  with  me.  Her  dying  chamber  presented  a 
scene  never  to  be  forgotten.  The  family,  except  her 
mother,  who  had  previously  passed  into  the  skies,  was 


THE  DYING  REGRET.  159 

around  her  bed  ;  and  with  a  mind  clear  and  collected, 
she  was  rapturously  speaking  to  them  about  Jesus, 
and  the  glory,  lienor,  immortality,  and  eternal  life, 
which  he  had  purchased  for  all  that  believe  in  him. 
And  with  a  propriety  and  earnestness  that  I  have 
never  known  surpassed,  she  exhorted  them  all  to  be- 
lieve and  to  obey  Christ.  Never  did  I  witness  such 
a  change.  The  diffident,  retiring  female  was  now  all 
confidence ;  the  tongue  that  was  almost  dumb,  now 
sweetly  and  delightfully  sung ;  -the  trembling  hope 
was  exchanged  for  assurance  and  joy  ;  and  the  hand 
which  she  dared  not  put  forth  to  partake  of  the  ele- 
ments of  the  broken  body  and  shed  blood  of  Christ, 
was  now  extended  to  grasp  the  crown  of  glory. 

When  the  excitement  of  addressing  her  impenitent 
friends  had  passed,  and  she  had  recovered  a  little  from 
the  exhaustion,  I  took  my  seat  by  her  side,  and  held 
with  her  my  final  interview,  until  we  meet  in  heaven. 
Her  confidence  in  Christ  was  strong  and  cheerful. 
The  clouds  which,  like  dark  curtains,  had  so  long 
hung  around  her  mind,  had  all  passed  away,  and  the 
light  of  the  Saviour's  countenance  shone  upon  her 
with  the  brightness  of  the  sun  in  its  strength.  And 
after  requesting  me  to  preach  a  sermon  to  the  young, 
after  her  burial,  on  the  text,  "  Prepare  to  meet  thy 
God,"  she  uttered  with  the  deepest  emotion  the  follow- 
ing memorable  sentiment:  "Would,  would,  0  would 
that  I  had  taken  your  advice,  and  that  I  had  confessed 
Christ  upon  earth.  I  hope  to  enjoy  him  for  ever  in 
glory  ;  but  from  the  joy,  and  from  the  bliss  of  having 
confessed  Christ  before  men,  I  am  now,  and  shall  be 
for  ever  excluded.  Warn  all  not  to  do  as  I  have 
done."     I  prayed  with  her,  and  bade  her  farewell. 


IGO  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

Soon  afterwards  the  silver  cord  was  loosed,  the  gold- 
en bowl  was  broken,  and  her  spirit  rose  up  to  the 
God  tliat  gave  it. 

This  narrative  has  deeply  impressed  upon  my 
mind  a  few  truths,  which  I  desire  to  place  upon  rec- 
ord, for  the  prayerful  and  serious  consideration  of 
every  reader. 

1.  Many,  very  many  are  prevented  from  professing 
Christ  before  men,  because  they  discriminate  not  be- 
tween faith  and  assurance.  Here  was  the  practical 
error  of  Harriet,  and  which  for  years  kept  her  from 
the  communion  of  the  saints.  Faith,  is  believing  what 
God  has  said  to  be  true,  and  treating  it  as  true ;  as- 
surance, is  the  persuasion  that  I  do  believe — that  I  am 
a  Christian.  These  are  very  distinct.  Faith,  is  trust- 
ing in  Christ  for  mercy  ;  assurance  enables  us  to  say, 
I  know  I  believe.  The  great  prerequisite  for  profess- 
ing Christ  before  men,  is  a  cordial  belief  in  Christ, 
and  not  the  assurance  that  we  arc  Christians.  Ecad- 
er,  arc  you  in  the  state  of  mind  of  her  whose  brief 
narrative  I  have  here  placed  before  you?  Do  you 
believe  in  Christ?  Then  wait  not  for  assurance, 
to  profess  Christ  before  men.  With  the  delightful 
persuasion,  that  Christ  is  mighty  to  save,  willing 
to  save,  waiting  to  save,  all  that  believe,  go  and  de- 
vote yourself  to  his  service,"  and  follow  him  in  the 
way  ;  and  assurance,  and  all  the  other  graces  which 
grow  along  the  path  of  obedience,  will  be  yours  in 
due  time. 

2.  Many  are  prevented  from  professing  Clirist 
because  of  wrong  views  of  the  'prerequisites  to  such  a 
profession.  It  is  the  superficial  and  unconverted  tliat 
usually  press  their  Avay  into  the  church :  the  serious 


THE  DYING  REGRET,  IGI 

and  sober,  to  whom  God  has  revealed  -what  is  in  their 
hearts,  usually,  like  Harriet,  are  found  waiting  at  the 
gates,  and  wateliing  at  the  posts  of  the  doors,  anxious 
to  enter  in,  but  yet  afraid,  lest  all. may  not  be  right. 
She  felt  her  uuworthiness  of  such  a  privilege  ;  but  who 
are  worthy  ?  She  felt  unfit  for  the  communion  of  the 
saints;  but  who  are  fit?  And  are  not  the  best  and 
holiest  members  of  the  church,  like  ourselves,  imper- 
fect? She  spoke  of  her  remaining  corruption,  but  so 
did  Paul ;  and  of  her  varying  feelings,  but  so  did 
David  ;  and  of- her  besetting  sins,  but  these  had  all 
the  saints.  It  is  far  better  to  feel  unfit,  than  fit;  un- 
Avorthy,  than  worthy.  Christ  came  not  to  call  the 
righteous,  but  sinners  to  repentance.  It  is  they  who 
are  sick  that  have  need  of  tlie  physician.  It  is  the 
weary  and  heavy-laden  that  Christ  invites  to  himself 
for  rest.  Reader,  is  the  question  before  your  mind, 
"  Shall  I,  or  shall  I  not  profess  Christ  before  men? 
As  you  would  do  duty  intelligently,  and  follow  Christ 
truly,  I  implore  you  to  permit  nothing  to  enter  into 
its  settlement  but  that  which  truly  belongs  to  it.  Do 
you  feel  that  you  are  a  sinner?  Do  you  feel  that 
Christ  alone  can  save  you?  Do  you  feel  that  you 
can  rest  alone  upon  him  for  salvation,  as  he  is  offered 
to  you  in  the  gospel  ? 

"  Let  not  conscience  make  you  linger, 
Nor  of  fitness  fondly  dream." 

Go  and  join  yourself  to  the  people  of  God,  and  follow 
Christ  in  all  the  paths  of  duty,  and  your  light  will 
become  brighter  and  brighter  even  unto  the  perfect 
day.  To  profess  Christ  before  men,  the  great  pre- 
requisite is  a  true  and  lively  faith  in  him.  Let  all  of 
whom  believing  and  doubting  Harriet  is  the  repre- 


162  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

sentative,  ponder  this  truth,  until  they  see  it  in  the 
broad  light  in  which  it  is  written  on  the  pages  of  tlie 
New  Testament. 

3.  Let  none  think  that  they  can  serve  Christ  as 
fully,  and  possess  the  joys  of  salvation  as  abundantly,  with- 
out professing  him  before  men,  as  by  so  doing.  This 
position,  though  often  asserted,  is  utterly  false.  It 
involves  a  general  principle  which  lays  the  axe  at  the 
root  of  the  church  as  a  divine  institution.  If  one  may 
serve  Christ  fully  away  from  the  church,  so  may  all ; 
and  if  all  adopt  this  principle,  what  becomes  of  the 
church  ?  It  passes  away  from  the  earth  in  two  gen- 
erations. 

Besides,  obedience  is  better  than  sacrifice  ;  and  the 
test  of  true  obedience  is  to  follow  the  Lord  fully. 
Can  we  so  follow  him,  away  from  his  church  and  peo- 
ple, when  we  have  the  opportunity  to  join  them  ?  Is 
there  a  solitary  case  to  be  found  among  all  tlfe  records 
of  men,  in  proof  of  this  ?  Who,  on  their  dying  bed, 
have  ever  rejoiced  that  they  served  Christ  disconnect- 
ed with  his  church?  I  have  known  many  who  at-* 
tempted  to  do  this,  and  in  every  case  I  could  trace 
it  to  a  latent  desire  to  serve  God  and  mammon.  And 
the  Saviour  tells  us  this  is  impossible. 

The  dying  Harriet  felt,  when  trembling  on  the 
confines  of  eternity,  that  her  failing  to  confess  Christ 
before  men  would  subtract  from  her  joy  for  ever. 
And  she  felt  truly.  One  of  the  most  precious  prom- 
ises of  the  Saviour  is  made  to  those  who  confess  him 
before  men.  And  I  feel  that  I  should  be  disobedient 
to  her  dying  injunction  unless  I  lifted  my  voice,  warn- 
ing all  men  everywhere  against  those  errors  which 
dying  she  deplored.    There  are  consolations  in  Christ 


THE  SLAVE  JOHN.  1G3 

which  none  can  truly  know,  here  or  hereafter,  but 
those  that  follow  the  Lord  fully. 

4.  Harriet  died  in  her  youth,  and  while  putting 
off  a  present  duty  to  a  future  day.  That  future  day 
she  never  saw,  and  the  duty  was  never  performed. 
And  before  she  entered  the  chariot  which  conveyed 
her  to- heaven,  she  felt,  and  she  said,  that  her  song  of 
praise  to  the  Redeemer  must  be  lower  than  the  song 
of  those  who  confessed  Christ  amid  many  tribulations, 
who  washed  their  robes  and  made  them  white  in  the 
blood  of  the  Lamb.  Reader,  do  your  duty  to-day. 
Your  highest  duty  is  to  follow  Christ.  So  follow 
him  as  you  will  wish  you  had  done  when  you  come  to 
die.  These  truths  arc  addressed  to  you  from  the 
death-bed  of  Harriet.  n.  m. 


THE   SLAVE  JOHN. 

Few  things  shed  so  sweet  an  influence  over  the 
mind  as  the  memory  of  the  pious  dead.  It  connects 
the  past  with  the  present,  and  both  the  past  and  pres- 
ent with  the  future,  when  kindred  souls  shall  rejoin 
each  other.  We  reason  thus :  Did  they  conquer  ?  So 
may  we.  Did  they  fight  hard  with  sins,  and  doubts, 
and  fears?  So  must  we.  Was  God  faithful  to  them  ? 
So  will  he  be  to  us.  Was  their  victory  by  the  blood 
of  the  Lamb  ?    We  must  conquer  by  the  same. 

One  whose  memorial  was  never  written  by  man, 
I  specially  love  to  think  of.  He  was  not  rich,  nor 
highly  gifted.  He  was  born  and  died  a  slave.  All 
his  wisdom  came  from  above.  Yet  the  hours  I  spent 
in  his  cabin  were  more  precious  than  any  I  ever 


164  SKETCHES  FROxM  LIFE. 

passed  with  the  gay,  or  even  with  the  pious  in  pros- 
perity. 

His  name  was  John.  He  hired  iiis  time ;  and, 
besides  working  by  the  day  as  he  could,  he  was  sex- 
ton at  the  church  where  I  worshipped.  I  was  often 
attracted  by  his-  peaceful  countenance,  no  less  than  by 
his  obliging  behavior.  At  the  beginning  of  the  ser- 
vices he  took  his  seat  in  a  back  pew,  and  seemed 
devoutly  to  unite  in  each  act  of  worsliip.  Perhaps 
no  one  who  saw  him,  doubted  that  his  heart  was  en- 
gaged. For  a  time  he  attracted  attention  only  as  a 
pious  and  polite  man. 

At  length  he  was  missing  for  two  Sabbaths.  I 
then  heard  that  he  was  very  sick.  I  went  to  sec  him, 
and  found  him  suffering  greatly  from  an  attack  of  his 
old  disease,  asthma.  Still  I  hoped  he  would  soon  be 
well,  and  go  with  the  voice  of  joy  and  praise  to  the 
house  of  God.  But  God's  plan  was  to  put  him  into 
the  furnace  of  affliction,  there  to  show  what  divine 
grace  could  do.  For  more  than  two  years  his  suffer- 
ings were  constant  and  severe.  Seldom  could  he  lie 
down.  He  commonly  sat  in  a  chair,  leaning  a  little 
forward,  and  having  an  aspect  of  the  most  quiet  sub- 
mission. A  more  serene  countenance  I  never  saw.  I 
still  remember  it.  Often  each  breath  was  a  gasp. 
Yet  he  never  uttered  a  murmuring  word.  Some 
things  in  his  past  history  had  been  very  afflicting,  but 
he  never  alluded  to  them.  His  song  was  all  of  good- 
ness and  mercy.  It  was  my  privilege  to  read  to  him 
Baxter's  Saints'  Rest.  It  w^as  manna  to  his  soul. 
Often,  as  I  read,  have  tears  of  joy  run  down  his  face. 
AVhile  he  heard  the  chapter  on  the  nature  of  the  heav- 
enly rest,  his  feelings  almost  overcame  him.     Peace, 


THE  SLAVE  JOHN.  1^5 

hope,  joy,  aad  a  sweet  sense  of  liis  interest  in  Christ, 
and  his  nearness  to  heaven,  bore  him  far  beyond  his 
pains.  He  exclaimed,  "  Glory !  It  is  mine  I  Jesus 
bought  it  for  poor  me.  Oh,  liow  sweet  it  will  be!" 
I  often  paused,  fearing  that  his  strength  would  fail. 
But  he  would  ask  me  to  read  on.  When  I  was  oblig- 
ed to  leave  him,  his  heart  was  still  full  of  glad  emo- 
tions. Laying  his  head  in  my  hands,  and  holding 
them,  witli  sobs  and  tears  he  ascribed  glory  and  honor 
to  the  Lamb,  and  bade  me  farewell. 

Thus  the  winter  passed  away.  The  body  was 
failing,  but  the  inward  man  grew  stronger  and  strong- 
er, and  the  spirit  was  pluming  its  wings  for  its  upward 
flight.  Spring  brought  but  slight  alleviation  to  his 
sufferings.  My  own  health  failing,  I  went  away  in 
search  of  health.  With  deep  regret  I  left  this  hum- 
ble child  of  God.  I  had  earnestly  desired  the  priv- 
ilege of  smoothing  his  passage  to  the  tomb,  and  of 
having  my  own  faith  strengthened  by  witnessing  the 
grace  of  God  in  him.  When  I  left  him,  I  thought  I 
should  see  his  face  no  more.  But  on  my  return,  after 
an  absence  of  several  months,  I  went  to  his  cabin,  and 
finding  him  still  there,  I  said,  "  John,  how  have  you 
got  tlirough  the  summer  ?"  He  replied,  "  Your  poor 
servant  would  have  perished,  but  the  Lord  has  held 
him  up  ;  I  have  passed  through  deep  waters,  but  they 
have  not  overflowed  me,  and  through  the  fire,  but  it 
has  not  burned  me.  My  poor  wife  was  ready  to  sink ; 
I  had  to  hold  her  up  wdth  one  hand,  and  buffet  the 
waves  with  the  other.  Out  of  the  depths  I  cried 
unto  the  Lord,  and  he  heard  me,  and  delivered  me. 
Praised  be  his  name!"  On  inquiry,  I  found  that  his 
little  earnings  were  all  gone  ;  that  the  industry  of  liis 


166  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

wife  could  not  supply  liis  and  her  necessities,  and  that 
he  had  been  in  want.  Yet  he  had  told  no  one.  Nor 
did  he  utter  any  complaint  against  God  or  man.  I 
said,  "  What  do  you  most  need  ?"'  He  replied,  "  Grace, 
more  grace."  Many  comforts  were  sent  him,  but  he 
daily  grew  weaker.  Every  act  of  kindness  from  man 
called  forth  his  gratitude  to  God,  who  had  put  it  into 
the  hearts  of  his  people  to  send  so  timely  relief. 

One  afternoon  a  message  came  that  John  was  dy- 
ing, and  wished  to  see  me.  It  was  cold  and  stormy. 
John's  cabin  was  remote.  As  I  went  past  the  abodes 
of  the  rich,  I  contrasted  their  state  with  his,  and  I 
was  troubled,  until  I  remembered  that  "whom  the 
Lord  loveth  he  chasteneth."  I  found  John  on  his 
bed,  supported  by  pillows,  and  in  agony.  In  broken 
syllables  he  said,  "  I  am  going,  and  I  wanted  to  bid 
you  farewell."  I  opened  my  little  Bible,  and  read  to 
him  the  twenty- third  Psalm.  I  also  repeated  the 
hymn  commencing, 

"  The  hour  of  my  departure 's  come, 
I  hear  the  voice  that  calls  me  home." 

The  word  of  God  was  always  a  well-spring  of  joy 
to  him,  and  he  soon  forgot  his  pain  in  view  of  the  rest 
before  him.  His  humble  home  became  the  house  of 
God  and  the  gate  of  heaven.  Many  things  suitable 
to  his  state  he  said,  the  sum  of  which  was,  that  he  was 
happy  in  God  through  Jesus  Christ.  But  the  hour  of 
deliverance  had  not  yet  come.  Every  day  his  suffer- 
ings increased,  but  patience,  hope,  and  faith  abound- 
ed. At  last.  He  who  sat  by  the  furnace  said,  "  It  is 
enough,"  With  two  Christian  friends  I  went  to  see 
him.  He  had  failed  rapidly.  We  inquired  how  he 
was.     A  pious  colored  friend  replied,  "  Dark,  dark. 


THB  SLAVE  JOHN.  167 

The  enemy  has  come  in  like  a  flood,  and  lie  has  let  go 
his  hold  of  Jesus,  and  is  sinking,  sinking,"  I  vent  to 
his  bedside.  Deep  gloom  sat  upon  his  brow.  Every 
feature  expressed  agony.  The  quiet,  peaceful  look 
was  gone.  I  said,  "John,  Jesus  is  with  you."  With 
anguish  he  said,  "  Oh,  he  has  left  me  ;  he  has  left  me. 
Must  your  poor  servant  perish  ?"  We  felt  that  vain 
was  the  help  of  man,  and,  falling  on  our  knees,  we 
offered  united  prayer.  While  we  yet  spoke,  God 
heard,  and  bade  "  the  lion  of  the  evening  "  to  cease  his 
roaring.  Gradually  the  groans  ceased.  For  a  time 
all  was  quiet.  Then  the  soft  whisper,  "  Peace,  glory, 
glory,  precious  Saviour,"  was  heard.  When  we  arose, 
all  was  changed.  Darkness  was  turned  into  light,  and 
the  glory  of  the  Lord  was  revealed  in  him.  Prayer 
was  turned  into  praise,  and  we  sang, 

"  And  let  this  feeble  body  fail,"  etc. 

That  precious  hour!  Can  it  ever  be  forgotten? 
Around  that  bed  were  gathered  the  bond  and  the  free, 
Methodists,  Episcopalians,  and  Presbyterians.  All 
joined  to  sing,  with  the  departing  saint,  hallelujah. 
Though  he  had  long  been  a  member  of  the  Episcopal 
church,  yet  all  names  were  forgotten  in  view  of  the 
cross  and  glory  of  Christ,  and  all  rejoiced  with  joy 
.  unspeakable  and  full  of  glory  ;  while  the  sufferer  for- 
got his  pains,  and  often  said,  "Bless  the  Lord,  0  my 
soul ;  and  all  that  is  within  me,  bless  his  holy  name." 

At  length  we  were  compelled  to  leave  this  mount 
of  privilege,  and  we  bade  farewell  to  our  dying  broth- 
er. I  never  saw  him  more.  Two  hours  after,  liis 
spirit 

"  Bui-st  from  the  thraldom  of  encumbering  clay, 
And  sprang  to  liberty,  and  light,  and  life." 


1G8  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

More  than  twenty-six  years  Lave  passed  since  that 
happy  night.  They  have  brought  with  them  joys  and 
sorrows,  cares  and  comforts  ;  hut  never  have  I  forgot- 
ten that  hour  and  its  scenes.  All  who  knelt  around 
that  bed,  except  myself,  have  now  gone  to  be  partak- 
ers of  the  joys  above,  xlll  bore  testimony  that  Jesus 
Christ  is  faithful  to  his  promises.  One  of  the  loved 
sisters  who  was  there,  died  as  she  had  lived,  but,  as  I 
•was  told,  with  joys  greatly  increased.  As  I  sat  by 
the  death-bed  of  another,  she  said,  "  You  know  what 
a  poor  timid  Christian  I  have  always  been ;  but  now 
I  have  no  fears,  no,  not  one.  All  is  peace."  And 
so  she  too  departed,  to  be  for  ever  with  the  Lord. 

"Who  is  wise,  and  he  shall  understand  these 
things?  prudent,  and  he  shall  know  them?  for  the 
ways  of  the  Lord  are  right,  and  the  just  shall  walk 
in  them  ;  but  the  transgressors  shall  fall  therein." 
Reader,  I  ask  not,  are  you  willing  to  die ;  but  I  ask, 
Are  you  prepared  to  die?  Is  Jesus  Christ  all  your 
hope  and  all  your  salvation?  Have  you  been  born 
again?  If  not,  your  death  must  be  followed  by  an 
eternity  of  woe.  Flee  for  refuge  to  the  gracious 
Saviour.  Glory  will  not  follow  death,  unless  death 
is  preceded  by  grace  reigning  in  your  heart,  through 
Jesus  Christ.  G. 


JOSEPH,   THE   MINISTER'S  SON. 

About  the  middle  of  December,  a  group  of  young 
people  were  gathered  in  the  dwelling  of  their  godly 
minister  for  conference  and  prayer.  A  few  of  the 
number  had  been  for  some  weeks  the  subjects  of  deep 
religious  impressions,  and  two  or  three  were  cherish- 


JOSEPH,  THE  MINISTER'S  SON.  169 

ing  lively  hope  in  the  mercy  of  God  through  Jesus 
Christ.  Perhaps  twenty-five  were  present,  and  by  no 
one  of  them  can  the  scenes  of  that  evening  have  been 
forgotten.  God  the  Spirit  was  there,  and  his  power 
was  felt,  and  his  efficiency  was  manifested. 

In  an  adjoining  room  lay  one  of  the  sons  of  the 
minister,  an  interesting  lad  of  twelve  years,  wlio  was 
ill  of  an  incurable  disease,  and  expecting  very  soon 
to  be  in  eternity.  Though  a  great  sufferer,  he  was 
happy.  Grace  had  renewed  his  heart,  Christ  was 
precious  to  him ;  death  had  no  terror ;  he  looked  to 
heaven  as  his  home.  At  liis  request  the  meeting  was 
held,  for  he  wished,  from  that  border-land  which  he 
was  treading,  to  say  a  few  words  to  the  young  whom 
he  was  leaving.  After  the  services  had  proceeded 
about  one  hour,  he  was  brought  into  the  room,  and 
placed  in  an  easy-chair.  The  light  from  the  stand 
shone  full  upon  his  features.  He  was  pale  and  ema- 
ciated, and,  but  for  the  glow  of  holy  animation  that 
lighted  up  his  eye,  he  would  have  seemed  ready  for 
his  shroud. 

In  a  few  short  sentences,  articulated  with  diffi- 
culty, he  told  the  silent  listeners  what  great  things 
the  Saviour  had  done  for  him,  and  how  bright  was  his 
prospect  of  that  better  world  whose  glories  were 
already  opening  to  his  view.  Then,  as  if  special 
strength  had  been  given  him,  he  raised  his  voice,  and 
said,  "My  dear  young  friends,  I  am  going  to  Jesus; 
he  calls  me  home,  and  I  go  joyfully.  May  I  not  hope 
to  meet  you  all  there  ?  Will  you  not  now  give  your 
hearts  to  the  Saviour,  and  so  serve  him  all  your  days 
as  to  be  prepared  to  dwell  with  him  for  ever?  0  do 
not  put  off  so  important  a  work.     Look  on  me,  and 


170  SKETCHES  FROM   LIFE. 

see  liow  necessary  it  is  to  repent  and  believe  in  early 
life.  Had  I  now  no  hope  in  Christ,  what  should  I 
do — where  should  I  go?  When  you  lay  me  in  my 
grave,  remember  my  words."  lie  was  exlmustcd,  and 
his  brother  bore  him  to  the  bed  from  which  he  never 
rose  again. 

The  scene  was  indeed  tender  and  affecting.  The 
words  of  the  dying  youth  sunk  into  the  hearts  of  the 
impenitent.  Exhortations  and  prayers  followed  that 
had  the  very  unction  of  heaven.  The  place  was  a 
Bochim.  Nearly  all  bowed  before  the  gentle  pressure 
of  the  divine  influence,  like  willows  before  the  sum- 
mer breeze,  and  yielded  without  resistance  to  the  Re- 
deemer's claims. 

Among  the  attendants  at  that  meeting,  was  a 
young  man  who  had  just  commenced  teaching  the 
district  school.  He  had  been  religiously  educated, 
and  was  regarded  as  "piously  inclined."  But  his 
heart  was  opposed  to  God,  and  he  endeavored  to 
brace  himself  against  all  the  appeals  and  influences  of 
that  impressive  occasion.  He  was  far  from  easy  ;  he 
knew  his  duty ;  but  he  shed  not  a  tear,  he  exhibited 
no  sign  of  emotion.  He  held  up  his  head,  looked 
gravely,  and  determined  to  appear  unaffected.  But 
after  the  services  were  concluded,  while  the  few  con- 
verts were  singing, 

"  Stop,  poor  sinner,  stop  and  think, 
Before  you  further  go," 

the  inward  springs  were  touched  by  an  invisible 
Agent.  He  felt  what  never  can  be  described.  A 
friend  whispered  to  him  the  inquiry,  "Have  you  no 
•interest  in  this  great  subject?"  This  opened  a  sluice 
for  the  pent-up  emotion.    He  too  confessed  the  power 


JOSEPH,  THE  MINISTER'S   SON.  171 

which  he  could  no  longer  resist.  He  became  an  in- 
quirer, and  for  a  week  writhed  under  the  anguish  of 
conviction,  when,  by  the  grace  of  God,  he  found  relief 
at  the  foot  of  the  cross. 

During  that  week  the  amiable  young  Joseph  breath- 
ed his  last.  Many  lamented  the  early  transfer  of  such 
a  plant  of  promise ;  all  believed  that  he  had  gone  to 
unfold  his  graces  in  the  paradise  of  God.  The  night 
before  his  funeral,  the  school-teacher  and  two  asso- 
ciates watched  with  his  remains.  It  was  a  dark  night, 
and  bitterly  cold.  The  sky  was  overcast,  and  every 
thing  portended  a  storm.  No  tramp  of  feet  or  rum- 
bling of  wheels  was  heard  without.  All  was  solemn  _ 
and  awfid  within.  The  air  pressed  with  mournful 
cadences  through  the  casements.  The  large  fire  of 
maple  lighted  up  the  apartment  where  the  watchers 
were  sitting — the  very  apartment  where  the  "young 
people's  meeting"  had  a  few  evenings  before  been 
held,  and  connected  with  which  were  touching  associ- 
ations. The  door  was  open  into  the  room  where  slept 
the  youth  in  placid  repose.  The  three  young  men  sat 
near  together,  and  conversed  upon  solemn  themes. 
Their  feelings  were  similar ;  they  had  no  hope  of 
future  glory ;  they  were  seeking  the  Saviour,  and 
fearing  they  should  fail  and  be  lost.  Timid  as  chil- 
dren, every  sound  made  them  hold  their  breath,  and 
quiver  with  solicitude.  Occasionally  the  ground 
would  crack  with  a  loud  report,  so  intense  was  the 
cold,  and  the  doors  and  windows  shook  witli  the  con- 
cussion. It  was  a  long  dreary  night  to  those  awaken- 
ed sinners,  watching  with  the  dead. 

The  next  day  the  house  was  filled  with  sympathiz- 
ing neighbors.     The  sleeper  lay  in  his  coffin,  witli  a 


172  SKETCHES  FRQM  LIFE. 

face  like  polished  alabaster,  his  ej-es  perfectly  closed, 
his  hair  laid  smoothly  over  his  temples,  and  his  lips  a 
little  parted,  as  if  he  would  give  one  more  exhorta- 
tion. The  spectators  came  one  after  another,  and 
looked  and  said,  "  How  sweet  the  expression !" 

A  hymn  was  sung — the  very  hymn  for  the  occa- 
sion : 

"Why  do  we  mourn  departing  friends?" 

and  never  did  that  inestimable  tune,  China,  sound  more 
impressively,  or  more  deeply  thrill  all  hearts.  A  ser- 
mon was  preached  that  contained  many  a  graphic  pic- 
ture of  the  blessedness  of  the  righteous,  and  many  a 
melting  appeal  to  the  young  to  honor  the  Saviour's 
claims.  The  bearers  took  up  the  body,  and  a  large 
procession  followed  to  the  place  of  sepulture.  It  was 
a  lonely  spot,  enclosed  by  a  stone  wall,  and  overrun 
with  ferns  and  briars.  As  the  bearers  passed  in  with 
their  light  burden,  the  school-teacher,  who  was  one  of 
the  number,  stepped  near  the  grave  of  his  fatlier,  who 
had  two  years  before  found  there  his  resting-place. 
0,  what  a  rush  of  emotion  was  there,  wlien  he  thought 
of  paternal  counsels  and  prayers!  The  body  was 
lowered  into  its  narrow  home,  the  earth  fell  with  a 
hollow  sound  upon  the  coffin,  the  grave  was  filled,  the 
sods  were  laid  over  the  little  hillock,  the  weeping 
father  thanked  his  friends  for  their  kindness,  and  the 
people  dispersed  thoughtfully  to  their  homes. 

From  that  time  the  religious  interest  spread,  and 
soon  became  general  through  the  town.  More  than 
two  hundred  souls  were  the  happy  subjects  of  renew- 
ing grace.  The  churches  were  greatly  refreshed  anil 
strengthened,  candidates  for  the  ministry  were  multi- 
plied, and  honor  accrued  to  the  Redeemer's  name. 


A  STUDENT   FOR    THE  MINISTRY.  173 

Years  have  since  passed  away,  but  many  of  the  fruits 
of  that  precious  revival  remain.  That  school-teacher 
is  the  pastor  of  a  Christian  church,  and  his  labors 
have  been  largely  blessed  by  the  applying  influences 
of  the  Holy  Spirit.  Whoever  may  forget  young  Jo- 
seph, he  will  not.  s. 


A   STUDENT    FOR  THE    MINISTRY. 

It  is  sometimes  said  that  college  influences  are 
unfavorable  to  growth  in  grace.  But  this  is  by  no 
means  universal.  The  most  remarkable  instances  of 
growth  in  grace  the  writer  has  ever  known,  have  oc- 
curred within  the  walls  of  college. 

A  young  man  entered  one  of  our  colleges.  He 
had  the  ministry  in  view.  For  some  time  he  was 
scarcely  noticed  by  his  fellow-students,  he  was  so 
modest  and  retiring.  He  first  attracted  attention  by 
his  regularity  in  attending  religious  meetings,  and 
next  by  the  accuracy  of  his  recitations.  Before  the 
close  of  the  year,  he  was  regarded  as  one  of  the  best 
scholars  in  the  class,  and  yet  he  did  not  seem  to  be 
ambitious.  No  indication  of  a  desire  to  excel  others 
appeared.     He  studied  from  a  sense  of  duty. 

To  a  friend  he  once  said,  "When  I  first  came  to 
college,  I  felt  a  desire  to  stand  high  in  my  class,  and 
to  be  popular  ;  but  I  found  that  the  spirit  of  ambition 
and  the  spirit  of  prayer  could  not  dwell  together,  I 
came  to  the  conclusion  that  I  must  seek  to  do  my  duty 
and  to  please  God.  When  I  had  fully  made  up  my 
mind  to  that,  I  found  very  few  difficulties  in  my  way. 
I  believe  there  are  fewer  temptations  in  college  than 
anywhere  else." 


Ill  SKI']TCIIES  FROM  LIFE. 

His  growth  in  grace  was  rapid ;  his  path  was  as 
tlie  shilling  light.  It  was  suggested  by  some  of  his 
friends  that  one  so  ripe  for  heaven  would  not  be  per- 
mitted to  remain  long  on  earth.  A  fellow-student 
once  aL-ked  liim,  "Have  you  ever  tliought  respecting 
your  life,  whether  it  would  be  long  or  short?"  His 
reply  was,  "I  do  not  think  it  Aviil  be  a  long  one;  I 
used  to  have  a  great  dread  of  an  early  death,  but  that 
is  over.  I  shall  go  when  infinite  wisdom  and  infinite 
love  determines.  I  have  but  one  l^Iaster  to  serve, 
wherever  I  am." 

Before  his  co'legiate  course  was  half  completed, 
he  suffered  an  attack  of  bleeding  at  the  lungs.  He 
went  home  and  remained  some  months,  when  having 
partially  regained  his  strengtli,  he  returned  to  col- 
lege. He  was  cheerful,  but  his  manner  was  still  more 
gentle  and  subdued.  There  was  the  same  devotion  to 
duty,  though  his  ability  for  study  and  Christian  effort 
was  impaired.  In  the  summer  of  the  Junior  year,  he 
bled  again,  and  was  with  difficulty  conveyed  home. 
His  strength  again  rallied,  and  it  was  hoped  that  a 
change  of  climate  and  an  active  life  would  prolong 
his  days.  As  winter  approached,  arrangements  were 
made  for  removing  liiin  to  the  South ;  but  lie  was  to 
remove  to  a  brighter  land  than  that  of  the  palm  and 
the  orange.  Before  the  first  frost  fell  on  the  flowers 
he  bled  again,  and  it  was  evident  that  he  would  never 
more  rise  from  his  bed. 

For  several  days  he  had  spoken  only  in  a  whisper  : 
one  afternoon,  to  the  surprise  of  friends  who  were 
around  him,  he  spoke  audibly  and  with  animation. 
He  testified  of  the  grace  of  God,  and  exhorted  his 
friends  to  strive  for  eminent  l:oliness.    He  then  asked 


EMMA.  115 

them  to  unite  with  liim  in  singing  a  hymn.     He  se- 
lected the  one  beginning  with  the  line, 

'•  There  is  a  fountain  filled  with  blood," 
and  sung  it  with  a  clear,  full  voice.  "Now/'  said  he, 
"I  am  going  to  sleep,  and  shall  awake  in  heaven. 
Farewell  all."  lie  soon  fell  into  a  gentle  slumber, 
which  passed  insensibly  into  the  slumber  of  death. 
N'o  doubt  his  spirit-voice  was  mingling  with  those  of 
the  redeemed  in  heaven  a  few  moments  after  he  had 
finished  his  last  song  on  earth.  He  had  fulfilled  his 
allotted  course  ;  he  had  finished  the  work  which  had 
been  given  him  to  do. 

How  is  it  with  the  reader?  Has  he  but  one  Mas- 
ter to  serve  ;  and  is  dcatli,  in  his  view,  simply  the  door 
by  which  lie  will  pass  from  one  scene  of  service  into 
another?  If  he  should  be  called  from  earth  now, 
would  he  have  finished  tlic  work  given  him  to  do? 

A. 


i:m:^[a. 

Emma  had  been  reared  under  worldly  inlluenccs. 
Beautiful  and  accomplished,  and  with  brilliant  world- 
ly prospects,  she  knew  nothing  of  true  happiness — • 
who  does? — till  she  found  peace  in  believing.  Her 
piety  developed  under  the  faithful  counsels  of  a  godly 
companion,  and  the  blessing  of  the  Spirit  on  the  read- 
ing of  the  Scriptures,  with  a  freshness  and  vigor  that 
admitted  of  none  of  the  trammels  of  human -philoso- 
phy :  her  faith  was  as  simple  as  a  child's.  It  received 
the  divine  promises  a?  meaning  just  what  they  im- 
ported,  and  as  being  made  to  her.  Though  she  was 
the  liglit  of  a  refined  and  wealthv  circle,  and  bound 


176  SKETCHES  FFOM   LIFE. 

by  all  the  tics  that  attach  lo  earth,  she  "  desired  to 
depart  and  be  -with  Christ."  The  hand  of  disease 
was  laid  upon  her.  Affection  and  science  exhausted 
the  aids  of  soothing  and  healing.  Foreign  travel 
brought  no  relief.  Youth  and  beauty  withered  before 
tlie  destroyer.  Days  and  nights  of  suffering  wasted 
her  vital  energies.  The  struggle  with  death  had 
commenced. 

How  did  she  meet  the  mysterious  messenger?  As 
his  victim,  or  his  conqueror?  AVith  the  calmness  of 
matured  faith- — ^with  the  trium})h  of  assured  hope. 
The  trusting  soul  leaned  on  the  arm  of  tlic  Beloved, 
and  all  was  peace  and  joy.  Hear  the  dying  soliloquy  : 
"  No  more  pain — no  more  suffering — no  more  sin.  0, 
how  nobly  Jesus  reigns  f  and  I  shall  be  like  him,  and 
sec  him  as  he  is." 

Yes;  "the  government  shall  be  upon  his  shoul- 
der, and  ho  shall  be  called  Wonderful,  Counsellor, 
the  mighty  God,  the  everlasting  Father,  the  Prince  of 
peace."  He  reigns  in  wisdom:  "His  understanding 
is  infinite."  He  reigns  in  righteousness :  "the  scep- 
tre of  his  kingdom  is  a  right  sceptre."  He  reigns  in 
love :  "  altogether  lovely."  He  reigns  nchly  :  "  "Worthy 
art  thou ;  for  thou  wast  slain,  and  hast  redeemed  us  to 
God  by  thy  blood."  0,  for  Emma's  faith,  for  Emma'i- 
Saviour,  for  Emma's  blessedness!  ii.  s.  c. 


A  CATHOLIC   HUSBAND  AND  WIFE.  IIT 


RELIGION  IN  THE  DOMESTIC  CIRCLE, 


A   CATHOLIC   HUSBAND   AND   WIFE. 

A  FEW  years  since,  a  young  merchant  with  his  ac- 
complished and  beautiful  wife,  located  liimself  on  one 
of  the  frontiers  of  our  country.  He  was  educated  for 
a  Catholic  priest,  but  the  providence  of  God  hedged 
up  his  way  to  that  profession,  and  he  entered  on  mer- 
cantile business,  in  which  he  was  very  successful. 
His  wife  also  had  always  lived  with  Roman-catholics, 
and  though  her  friends  mingled  in  the  higher  classes 
of  society,  and  had  free  intercourse  with  Protestants, 
yet  in  their  religious  views  they  were  bigoted. 

The  lot  of  this  young  and  interesting  couple,  in 
their  new  location,  was  cast  in  the  vicinity  of  a  mis- 
sionary station,  and  their  politeness  and  acquaintance 
with  the  forms  of  society  led  them  to  treat  the  mis- 
sionaries with  kindness  and  attention.  Thus  they 
lived  for  some  time,  each  enjoying  their  own  religious 
views.  The  system  of  colportage  was  not  then  known 
in  name,  but  the  missionaries  were  tract  distributers, 
and  scattered  the  precious  messages  of  love  and  mercy 
wherever  they  went.  One  of  them  was  returning  a 
call  to  these  Catholic  friends,  and  left  on  the  table 
the  tract  of  Baxter,  entitled,  "  Heaven  Lost.''  It  lay 
some  time  untouched,  but  at  last,  to  while  away  a 
lonely  hour,  this  young  and  interesting  woman  took 
it  up,  and  the  perusal  awakened  a  new  train  of  reflec- 
tions. She  saw  and  felt  that  the  course  she  was  pur- 
^1* 


178  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

suing  endangered  her  eternal  happiness,  and  this  led 
to  a  conviction  that  slie  was  a  sinner  in  the  sight  of 
God,  and  needed  something  more  than  the  forms  of 
Catholic  worship  to  change  her  vile  nature,  and  fit 
her  to  dwell  in  tlie  presence  of  infinite  purity. 

But  what  should  she  do  ?  She  feared  to  tell  her 
husband  what  were  her  feelings,  for  he  had  ridiculed 
the  practice  of  the  missionaries  in  thus  scattering  their 
books.  She  dared  not  go  to  the  missionaries  for  in- 
struction, for  that  would  expose  her  not  only  to  the 
disapprobation  of  her  husband,  but  also  to  the  anath- 
emas of  her  own  church  ;  and  this  she  considered  an 
evil  next  in  degree  to  that  of  the  displeasure  of  God. 
Struggling  with  these  feelings,  and  her  heart  ready  to 
break  with  a  sense  of  its  own  vilcness,  she  one  night 
retired  to  her  bed  before  her  husband  came  in  from 
his  business. 

After  a  while  he  entered  the  house,  and  going 
into  the  room  where  she  was  tossing  on  her  sleepless 
pillow,  he  opened  the  bookcase,  and  that  same  tract 
fell  from  off  one  of  the  shelves.  He  had  before  sev- 
eral times  thrown  it  aside,  and  now  taking  it  up,  vex- 
atiously  remarked,  "  I  can  go  nowhere  but  what  I 
must  be  tormented  with  this  tract ;  but  I  '11  be  troub- 
led with  it  no  longer — I  '11  burn  it."  He  cauglit  it  up 
impatiently,  and  was  about  putting  his  threat  into 
execution,  Avlien  his  wife  ventured  to  say,  "  I  would 
read  it  first,  Samuel."  Influenced  partly  by  polite- 
ness to  the  friend  who  had  left  it,  and  partly  by  com- 
plaisance to  the  wife  whom  he  loved  as  his  own  soul, 
he  turned,  seated  himself  at  his  desk,  and  began  to 
peruse  it.  Altliougli  his  position  at  the  desk  was 
such  that  his  wife  could  not  see  liis  countenance,  yet 


A  CATHOLIC   HUSBAND  AND  WIFE.  179 

she  watched  liis  movements  with  almost  breathless 
anxiety,  and  soon  perceived  he  was  devoting  himself 
with  earnestness  to  its  contents. 

lie  soon  inquired,  "Have  you  read  this,  Maria?"' 
She  tremblingly  answered  that  she  had.  He  became 
more  and  more  absorbed,  and  at  last  said,  with  much 
apparent  solemnity,  "  Maria,  I  don't  believe  you  liavo 
read  this  attentively;  shall  I  read  it  to  you?"  She 
assented ;  and  he,  changing  his  position,  turned  to 
the  commencement  of  the  tract,  and  began  reading  it 
aloud.  As  he  proceeded,  anxiety  was  manifest  in  his 
countenance,  liis  voice  grew  tremulous,  and  as  the 
fear  of  his  disapprobation  was  swept  from  her  mind, 
her  own  bursting  heart  found  vent  in  sobs  and  tears. 
Thus  they  proceeded  through  the  whole  tract,  and 
when  the  last  page  was  finished,  he  was  not  only  con- 
vinced of  sin,  but  of  the  inefificacy  of  his  false  hopes 
to  relieve  his  burdened  soul ;  and  was  ready  to  unite 
with  her  in  inquiring  tlK)  way  of  deliverance. 

But  they  knew  not  what  to  do.  Neither  of  them 
had  ever  offered  a  prayer  to  God  through  the  Saviour 
who  died  for  sinners.  Neither  of  them  knew  any 
thing  of  the  Bible,  which  will  direct  the  inquiring 
soul  aright ;  and  that  night  was  spent  in  such  agony 
as  can  scarcely  be  conceived  by  a  mind  which  has 
been  instructed  in  the  way  of  salvation.  The  morn- 
ing dawned,  but  thick  darkness  reigned  in  that  dwell- 
ing ;  and  before  the  middle  of  the  day  their  inward 
agony  had  so  conquered  not  only  their  pride,  but 
their  fear  of  Catholic  anathemas,  that  they  unitedly 
ordered  their  carriage,  and  were  taken  to  the  mission- 
house.  The  scenes  of  that  interview  will  long  be 
remembered  by  all  who  were  present.     The  husband, 


180  SKETCHES   FROM   LIFE.' 

who  carried  there  a  rebellious  heart,  returned  with  a 
broken  one,  pleading  witli  his  still  agonized  wife  to 
yield  herself  into  the  hands  of  the  Saviour,  whom  he 
had  found  willing  to  receive  him.  A  few  hours  onlv 
intervened  before  she  could  rejoice  with  him,  and 
unite  in  lieart  at  the  family  altar  he  had  cstablislicd. 
From  that  time  their  efforts  in  the  cause  of  Christ 
were  progressive,  and  many  were  led  by  their  spirit  and 
conversation  to  exclaim,  "What  hath  God  wrought!'' 
Years  have  since  passed,  and  the  beloved  ^laria 
has,  we  trust,  received  from  her  Saviour  her  everlast- 
ing crown,  and  is  now  praising  him  in  the  heaven  she 
did  not  lose  ;  while  her  husband  still  lingered  on  the 
shores  of  time,  to  glorify  God  by  an  active  Christian 
course,  and  to  train  their  babes  for  immortality. 

Anna. 


MY   WIFE   IS   THE   CAUSE   OF   IT. 

It  is  now  more  than  forty  years  ago,  that  Mr, 

L called  at  the  house  of  Dr.  B ,  one  very 

cold  morning,  on  his  way  to  II .     "  Sir,''  said  the 

doctor,  "  the  weather  is  very  frosty  ;  will  you  not 
take  something  to  drink  before  you  start?"  In  that 
early  day,  ardent  spirits  were  deemed  indispensable 
to  warmth  in  winter.  When  commencing  a  journey, 
and  at  every  stopping-place  along  the  road,  the  trav- 
eller used  intoxicating  drinks  to  keep  him  warm. 

"No,"  said  Mr.  L ,  ''I  never  touch  any  thing 

of  the  kind,  and  I  will  tell  you  the- reason:  my  wife 
is  the  cause  of  it.  I  had  been  in  the  habit  of  meeting 
some  of  our  neighbors  every  evening,  for  the  purpose 
of  ploying  cards.    We  assembled  at  each  other's  shop, 


MY  WIFE  IS  THE  CAUSE  OF  IT.  181 

and  liquors  were  introduced.  After  a  wliilc  we  met 
not  so  much  for  the  purpose  of  playing  as  drinking, 
and  I  used  to  return  home  late  in  the  evening,  more 
or  less  intoxicated.  ^ly  wife  always  met  me  at  the 
door  affectionately,  and  when  I  eluded  her  for  sitting 
up  so  late  for  me,  she  kindly  replied,  'I  prefer  doing 
so,  for  I  cannot  sleep  when  you  are  out.' 

"  This  always  troubled  me,  and  1  wished  in  my 
heart  that  she  would  only  begin  to  scold  me,  for  then 
I  could  have  retorted  and  relieved  my  conscience. 
But  she  always  met  me  with  the  same  gentle  and  lov- 
ing spirit. 

"  Things  passed  on  thus  for  some  time,  when  at 
last  I  resolved  that  I  would,  by  remaining  very  late 
and  returning  much  intoxicated,  provoke  her  displeas- 
ure so  much  as  to  cause  her  to  lecture  me,  Avhen  I 
meant  to  answer  her  with  severity,  and  thus  by  cre- 
ating another  issue  between  us,  unburden  my  bosom 
of  its  present  trouble. 

"I  returned  in  such  a  plight  about  four  o'clock  in 
the  morning.  She  met  me  at  the  door  with  her  usual 
tenderness,  and  said,  '  Come  in,  husband  ;  I  have  just 
been  making  a  warm  fire  for  you.  because  I  knew  you 
would  be  cold.  Take  off  your  boots  and  warm  your 
feet,  and  here  is  a  cup  of  hot  coffee.' 

"  Doctor,  that  was  too  much.  I  could  not  endure 
it  any  longer,  and  I  resolved  that  moment  that  I 
would  never  touch  another  drop  Avhile  I  lived,  and  I 
never  will." 

He  never  did.  He  lived  and  died  practising  total 
abstinence  from  all  intoxicating  drinks,  in  a  village 
which  intemperance  has  ravaged  as  much  as  any  other 
in  this  state.  » 


182 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 


That  man  was  my  father,  and  that  woman  my 
mother.  The  facts  above  related  I  received  from  the 
doctor  himself,  when  on  a  visit  to  my  native  village, 
not  long  since. 

May  we  not  safely  assert,  that  were  there  more 
wives  like  my  blessed  mother,  there  would  bo  fewer 
confirmed  drunkards?  My  father  was  a  man  of  gen- 
erous impulses  and  social  instincts,  just  the  man  to  be 
led  into  habits  of  inebriation,  and  just  the  man  also 
to  feel  the  impression  such  gentleness  was  calculated 
to  make. 

Let  those  wives  who  witness  with  agony  the  com- 
mencement of  any  evii  habits  in  their  l^usbands,  bo 


A  GAMBLER  AND  HIS  WIFE.  183 

encouraged  to  try  wliat  patient,  persevering  love  can 
do.  Let  tlieir  motto  be,  ''She  opencth  her  mouth 
with  wisdom,  and  in  her  tongue  is  the  law  of  kind- 


A   GAMBLER  AND   HIS  WIFE. 

Tn  the  village  where  I  am  a  pastor  is  a  gambling- 
house,  to  which  multitudes  resort  to  play  billiards  and 

cards.     It  was  kept,  a  few  years  since,  by  a  Mr. , 

whose  wife,  a  most  interesting  and  amiable  young 
woman,  who.  was  in  the  habit  of  attending  my  church, 
became  hopefully  converted,  and  made  a  public  pro- 
fession of  religion.  lie  never  visited  the  sanctuar}', 
and  studiously  avoided  all  means  of  grace,  devoting 
himself  entirely  to  liis  miserable  business.  Indeed,  he 
liad  been  trained  to  it  from  his  childhood,  having  from 
early  years  been  employed  as  a  rider  at  horseraces, 
and  always  mingled  in  the  society  of  tlie  profligate. 

From  the  moment  the  Spirit  touched  her  heart, 
the  Lord  poured  out  upon  her  the  spirit  of  grace  and 
supplication  for  him  ;  and  she  pleaded  earnestly,  and 
fainted  not,  that  he  might  see  his  sinfulness,  and  flee 
from  the  wrath  to  come.  Often  would  she  await  his 
return  from  the  billiard-room  at  midnight,  upon  her 
knees ;  sometimes  expecting  when  he  opened  the  door 
to  see  him  under  conviction  of  sin,  and  disappointed 
when  she  found  it  otherwise. 

Month  after  month  rolled  by,  and  no  cloud  of 
mercy  seemed  to  gather  about  her  habitation,  and  yet, 
like  the  prophet  Elijah's,  her  eye  of  faith  saw  the  rain 
descending. 

Much  to  my  surprise,  I  was  summoned  one  morn- 


184  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

ing  to  the  house  of  Mr.  • ,  to  converse  with  him 

on  the  subject  of  his  salvation.  I  found  him  in  the 
deepest  agony  under  the  pressure  of  his  guilt,  and  ear- 
nestly inquiring,  "  What  must  I  do  to  be  saved  ?"  His 
sense  of  sin  was  very  vivid,  and  his  apprehension  of 
the  perfect  justice  of  God  in  his  perdition  very  clear. 
Among  the  burdens  which  crushed  him,  was  that  of 
having  taken  money  from  others  which  did  not  belong 
to  him.  I  advised  him  to  make  immediate  confession 
and  restitution,  and  at  the  same  time  abandon  his 
ruinous  business.  I  then  prayed  with  him,  and  left 
him  weeping  bitterly. 

He  instantly  set  about  the  work  of  repentance  in 
good  earnest.  Going  to  his  partner,  he  said,  "  I  shall 
never  enter  that  billiard-room  again."  To  those 
whom  he  had  wronged,  he  made  a  full  confession  and 
offer  of  restitution.  That  evening  for  the  first  time 
I  found  him  at  our  weekly  prayer-meeting,  when  he 
requested  the  people  of  God  to  pray  for  him.  From 
that  day  he  became  a  burning  and  a  sliining  light 
among  us.  His  trials  were  very  great,  but  his  faith 
never  failed,  nor  did  he  lose  his  first  love. 

But  it  may  be  asked  how,  under  his  peculiarly 
unfavorable  circumstances,  was  he  awakened?  The 
answer  will  add  another  testimony  to  the  truth  of  the 
sovereign  grace  of  God,  as  conclusive  as  that  which 

the  conversion  of  Saul  of  Tarsus  furnishes.    Mr. 

was  awakened  at  the  billiard-room  and  at  the  card- 
table.  Two  men  had  been  playing,  and  one,  by  false 
shuffling  of  the  cards,  had  been  plundered  of  his  last 
cent.  Filled  with  despair,  he  rose,  caught  a  chair, 
and  dashed  it  in  his  agony  through  the  window.  A 
siffht  of  his  countenance  was  the  sermon  which  the 


THE  DOOR   WAS  SHUT.  185 

Holy  Spirit  blessed  to  the  conviction  of  Mr. , 

He  resolved  that  hour  to  seek  the  Lord,  and  he  sought 
him  with  his  whole  heart. 

How  naturally  do  reflections  such  as  the  following 
arise  in  view  of  such  a  fact. 

1.  Never  despair  of  the  salvation  of  any  man,  so 
long  as  he  is  spared  by  God  to  live  in  tlic  world  of 
mercy. 

2.  All  things  are  possible  to  him  that  believeth, 
and  who  prays  in  faith. 

3.  Let  wives  who  have  ungodly  husbands  who 
will  not  attend  the  sanctuary,  hope  in  God,  and  pray 
on. 

4.  How  rich  id  the  distinguishing  grace  of  God. 

What  would  have  become  of  Paul,  or  Mr. ,  or 

you,  or  I,  or  any  one  else,  were  it  not  true  that  God 
"hath  mercy  on  whom  he  will  have  mercy,  and  com- 
passion on  whom  he  will  have  compassion  ?'"'         l. 


THE   DOOR   WAS   SHUT. 

Mrs.  F was  educated  as  ''a  Friend."     When 

she  married,  her  residence  was  several  miles  from  any 
meeting  ;  but  though  out  of  the  reach  of  the  ordinary 
means  of  grace,  she  was  not  out  of  the  reach  of  the 
colporteur,  nor  of  the  Spirit  of  God.  On  one  occa- 
sion, when  she  was  alone  in  the  house,  as  she  was 
looking  at  her  expense-book,  indifferent  to  her  soul, 
the  tract  with  the  title,  "  The  Door  was  Shut,"  which 
had  some  time  before  been  placed  in  the  family  by 

ReV.  Mr.  P ,  fell  from  the  book :  she  stooped  to 

pick  it  up,  and  as  she  did  so,  her  eye  fell  upon  the 


186  SKETCHES   FROM  LIFE. 

title.  It  was  quaint — it  was  short — it  was  startling — 
The  door  was  shut.  Her  attention  was  arrested  ;  she 
began  to  read,  and  as  she  read  she  began  to  tremble. 
For  the  first  time  in  her  life  she  f elf  herself  a  sinner, 
and  began  to  realize  that  she  was  in  danger  of  being 
lost  for  ever.  Her  distress  was  very  great.  What 
must  she  do — wliat  could  she  do  ? 

She  had.no  one  to  converse  with — no  Christian 
friend  near  to  advise  her ;  her  mind  was  in  midnight 
gloom  ;  she  had  heard  of  prayer,  but  hardly  knew 
what  it  was,  for  she  had  never  prayed  in  all  her  life ; 
however,  she  could  but  try  :  she  bowed  herself  before 
God,  and  cried  to  him  for  mercy,  but  without  avail ; 
no  relief  could  she  find.  All  through  that  day  and 
night,  and  througli  all  the  next  day,  did  her  distress 
continue. 

When  her  husband  entered  the  house  on  his  return 
from  a  journey,  he  noticed  her  distress,  and  inquired 
tlie  cause.  On  learning  it,  though  not  himself  a  pro- 
fessor of  religion,  he  bade  her  not  to  be  discouraged, 
but  to  read  the  Bible,  and  she  would  there  find  direc- 
tion. She  took  his  advice,  and  opened  the  sacred 
word,  and  her  eye  fell  upon  a  delightful  passage  in 
Romans  which  God  blessed  to  her,  and  she  became 
unspeakably  happy  in  the  love  of  Christ. 

She  now  longed  to  find  some  of  the  people  of 
God,  to  tell  them  what  he  had  done  for  her ;  and  in 
a  day  or  two  she  rode  twenty-seven  miles  to  converse 
with  the  minister  who  married  her,  with  whose  church 
she  afterwards  united.  e.  d.  f. 


A  PROUD  HUSBAND  AND  HIS   WIFE.         187 

A  PROUD   HUSBAND  AND   HIS  WIFE. 
Many  years  have  passed  since  it  was  my  privilege 
to  minglein  the  scenes  connected  with  the  gracious 

work  o'f  grace  in  C ,  M county,  New  Jersey. 

One  incident  tliat  occurred  during  the  revival,  illus- 
trating the  influence  of  a  praying  wife,  made  a  last- 
ing impressiou  on  my  mind,  which  I  am  induced  to 
communicate,  in  the  hope  that  its  publication  may 
encourage  other  wives  to  "thank  God,  and  take 
courage.'' 

Mrs. became  deeply  impressed  upon  the  sub- 
ject of  personal  religion,  and  the  duty  of  yielding  her 
heart  to  Go(^  and  securing  an  interest  in  the  ''  great 
salvation.''  With  a  decision  of  mind  characteristic 
of  the  lady,  she  cast  away  the  weapons  of  her  war- 
fare, made  an  unconditional  surrender  of  herself  to 
the  Lord,  and  speedily  found  "peace  in  believing," 
and  ''joy  in  the  Holy  Ghost."' 

Before  making  a  public  manifestation  of  the  change 
which  had  been  wrought  in  her  by  the  grace  of  God, 
she  felt  that  she  must  open  her  mind  to  her  husband, 
who  was  not  a  professor  of  religion,  and  ask  his  per- 
mission to  unite  with  the  church.  He  was  anxious  to 
have  the  good  opinion  of  the  church-going  people, 
and  to  be  considered  a  strict  moralist ;  yet  he  spent 
his  Sabbath,  not  in  the  sanctuary,  but  in  visiting  from 
house  to  house,  or  in  looking  over  his  farm.  He  was 
accustomed  to  "  measure  himself  by  himself,"  and  to 
compare  himself  with  others,  and  especially  with  halt- 
ing professors,  and  to  conclude  that  he  was  consid- 
erably better  than  those  who  made  a  profession  of 
religion. 


188  SKETCHES   FROM   LIFE. 

With  some  apprehension  of  a  refusal,  Mrs.  

informed  her  husband  that  she  felt  it  to  be  her  duty 
to  serve  God  and  to  unite  with  the  church,  and  wished" 
his  consent  to  her  so  doing.  He  heard  her  request  in 
silence,  his  countenance  indicating  a  severe  mental 
conflict,  and  at  length,  with  an  effort  at  composure, 
said,  '*  I  have  no  objections.  I  do  not  wish  to  act  the 
part  of  a  tyrant  over  you ;  unite  with  the  chur.ch,  if 
you  feel  it  to  be  your  duty,  but  1  cannot  go  with  you." 
Grateful  to  God  that  he  had  put  it  into  the  heart  of 
her  husband  to  give  his  consent  to  her  uniting  with 
the  church,  she  hastened  with  joyful  steps  to  the  tem- 
ple of  God  where  the  saints  kept  "holy  day."  Upon 
her  return  from  the  meeting  in  the  evening,  she  found 
that  her  companion  had  retired  for  the  night.  She 
entered  the  chamber  softly,  supposing  him  to  be  asleep, 
and  bowing  by  the  bedside,  poured  out  her  soul  to 
God  in  prayer  on  the  behalf  of  her  much-loved  but 
unconverted  husband. 

When  the  time  arrived  for  those  who  proposed 
uniting  with  the  church,  "to  give  a  reason  for  the 

hope  within  tiiem,"  Mrs. was  one  of  the  many 

who  presented  themselves  as  candidates  for  member- 
ship ;  but  her  husband  was  not  there,  he  had  volun- 
tarily remained  at  home,  "  to  keep  the  children." 

During  the  introductory  exercises  of  the  morning, 
to  the  wonder  and  surprise  of  all,  Mr.  • the  hus- 
band entered  the  house,  and  with  a  calm  and  cheerful 
countenance  went  forward  and  took  a  seat  by  the  side 
of  his  wife,  near  the  pulpit.  At  a  proper  time,  he 
rose  and  said  as  follows :  "  Christian  friends,  I  have 
come  to  tell  you  what  God  has  done  for  my  soul.  1 
remained  Avithout  any  interest  concerning  my  soul  uj) 


A   TROUD  HUSBAND  AND  HIS   WIFE.         ISO 

to  the  time  when  my  dear  wife  asked  my  permission 
to  unite  with  the  church.  Her  request  fell  upon  my 
ears  like  a  thunderclap,  and  went  to  my  heart  like  a 
dagger.  I  felt  that  the  peace  of  my  family  was  de- 
stroyed, and  my  proud  and  rebellious  heart  rose  up  in 
opposition,  and  had  I  followed  my  own  inclination,  I 
should  have  forbidden  her  to  make  a  profession  of 
religion.  But  I  feared  public  sentiment;  1  did  not 
wish  to  be  thought  a  tyrant,  and  1  gave  a  reluctant 
consent.  1  was  very  unhappy  ;  I  knew  I  ought  to  be 
a  Christian,  but  was  loo  proud  to  confess  it,  and  I 
resolved  that  1  would  not  confess  to  any  one  how  I 
felt  upon  the  subject  of  religion,  but  would  privately 
seek  God  and  have  religion,  and  none  should  know 
it.  I  resorted  to  secret  prayer ;  but  the  more  I  pray- 
ed the  worse  I  felt,  and  yet  I  could  not  forego  prayer. 
I  assumed  a  cheerful  aspect,  but  there  was  a  crushing 
weight  upon  my  heart.  On  the  occasion  of  my  wife's 
praying  for  me  by  my  bedside,  on  her  return  from 
meeting,  I  was  not  asleep,  but  lay  like  a  guilty  cul- 
prit, trembling  with  fear,  while  she  pleaded  with  God 
on  my  behalf.  A  more  wretched  being  did  not  exist 
than  I  felt  myself  to  be,  but  I  was  not  humble  enough 
to  own  it  to  my  companion  :  I  slept  but  little  during 
that  night.  The  next  evening  I  was  induced  to  at- 
tend the  house  of  God,  while  she  remained  at  home: 
upon  my  return,  and  entering  the  house,  I  found  tliat 
she  had  retired  to  her  chamber ;  but  there  lay  the 
Bible  open  upon  the  stand  where  she  had  been,  read- 
ing, and  there  stood  the  chair  by  whicji  1  felt  assured 
she  had  knelt  and  prayed  for  my  guilty  soul.  1  trem- 
bled with  emotion.  What  must  I  do?  was  the  lan- 
guage of  my  throbbing  heart.     I  read  the  book  of 


190  SKETCHES   FROM  LIFE. 

God.  I  bowed  my  knees  where  my  wife  had  bowed 
before  me,  and  with  tears  I  sought  the  mercy  of  God ; 
but  no  relief  could  I  find,  because  I  was  not  satisfied 
to  take  salvation  without  any  conditions.  I  spent 
another  restless  night.  This  morning,  after  my  wife 
had  left  me  to  come  to  this  place,  my  anguish  increas- 
ed ;  I  felt  that  I  could  not  live,  I  must  yield  or  die. 
I  could  not  find  relief  in  my  business,  I  could  not  take 
comfort  in  my  little  children  ;  I  was  of  all  men  most 
miserable.  1  felt  a  drawing  to  the  house  of  God,  and 
after  asking  God  to  direct  me,  1  resolved  to  come  to 
his  temple.  1  went  out  among  my  neighbors,  and  left 
my  little  children  in  their  care,  and  with  eager  steps 
I  pressed  my  way  to  this  place,  sighing  and  groaning, 
like  Bunyan's  pilgrim,  beneath  my  burden,  until,  as  I 
was  ascending  the  hill  upon  which  this  house  stands, 
my  mind  was  led  to  Calvary,  to  Christ  and  his  fin- 
ished work,  and  I  was  enabled  to  believe  on  him  with 
all  my  heart ;  my  burden  was  loosed  and  rolled  away, 
and  my  soul  is  filled  with  the  love  of  Jesus.  And 
now,  as  a  brand  plucked  from  the  burning,  I  wish  to 
unite  with  my  dear  companion  in  serving  God,  and 
when  the  proper  time  shall  come,  to  unite  with  the 
church  as  one  who  has  obtained  mercy  of  the  Lord  as 
the  chief  of  sinners." 

During  the  relation  of  the  above  incidents,  tears 
of  gratitude  filled  every  eye,  while  smiles  of  joy  irra- 
diated every  countenance,  and  all  were  solemnly  im- 
pressed with  the  conviction 

"  that  praying  breath 

Is  never  spent  in  vain." 

Christian  wives,  be  encouraged ;  olTer  unceasing 
prayer  to  God,  he  will  not  turn  a  deaf  ear  to  your 


THE  YOUNG  WIFE'S  TRAYER.  191 

cries ;  encircle  your  dear  companions  in  the  arms  of 
your  affection,  pray  for  them  and  with  them^  and  be 
not  faitliless,  but  believing-,  and  your  husbands  Avill 
have  occasion,  like  the  subject  of  this  sketch,  to  thank 
God  for  a  "praying  wife."'  Davies. 


THE  YOUNG   WIFE'S   PRAYER. 

Harry  B was  a  wealthy  young  planter  in  one 

of  our  southern  Atlantic  states,  uniting  in  himself  all 
those  amiabilities  and  excellences  which  in  the  eye  of 
the  world  make  up  the  gentleman  and  the  good  com- 
panion. He  had  lately  married  a  gentle,  loving 
maiden ;  and  their  days  were  speeding  by  in  the 
enjoyment,  as  they  fondly  fancied,  of  every  thing  that 
could  confer  pleasure  or  add  a  greater  zest  to  life. 
But  in  the  midst  of  their  round  of  dissipation,  the 
young  wife  felt  an  undefined  longing  for  something 
purer,  holier,  than  she  had  yet  experienced.  The 
Spirit  of  God  was  gently  leading  her,  though  she 
realized  it  not,  to  the  possession  of  real  pleasure,  and 
the  prospect  of  unending  bliss. 

lu  this  feeling  of  dissatisfaction  with  worldly  joys, 
her  steps  were  providentially  directed  to  a  religious 
service  attended  by  the  poorer  class  of  her  neighbors. 
The  deep  seriousness  of  the  humble  throng,  the  fervid 
earnestness 4^f  the  preacher,  and  the  inward  monitions 
of  the  awakening  Spirit  in  her- troubled  breast,  told 
her  that  here  was  to  be  found  the  lasting  joy  she 
sought,  even  in  the  ennobling  service  of  Christ.  The 
conflict  was  short.  She  found  repentance  and  sub- 
mission sweet.     She  found  her  Saviour  gracious. 

The  news  fell  like  a  thunderbolt  upon  the  ear  of 


192  SKETCHES  FROM  LITE. 

the  astonished  husband.  She  so  gentle,  so  winninir, 
the  idol  of  the  festive  throng,  and  the  acknowledged 
queen  of  every  gay  assemblage,-  a  humble  follower  of 
Jesus?  Was  she  to  forsake  the  world,  of  which  she 
had  been  so  long  a  bright  and  shining  star?  Was 
she  who  liad  lived  so  long  for  liim  alone,  to  give  up 
all  for  Jesus?,  How  the  deep  malignity  of  his  evil 
heart  burst  forth!  But  though  she  trembled  and 
wept  at  his  angry  expostulations,  she  faltered  not. 

At  length  the  time  drew  near  when  the  new 
convert,  with  other  fruits  of  the  pastor's  faithful- 
ness, were  publicly  to  avow  their  renunciation  of  the 

world.     B 's  anger  was  now  fidly  excited.     Had 

his  wife  been  willing  to  connect  herself  witii  any  of 
the  more  fashionable  congregations  of  the  neighbor- 
ing city,  he  could  have  the  better  endured  it ;  but  to 
behold  the  shrinking  form  of  her  he  loved,  with  those 
of  a  lower  grade  of  society,  and  even  in  company  with 
slaves,  profess  faith  in  Christ,  was  most  gaUing  to  his 
proud  spirit.  In  his  anger  he  sent  word  to  the  min- 
ister that  he  would  publicly  castigate  him,  if  he  dared 
to  baptize  his  wife. 

But  a  short  time  had  elapsed,  when,  as  he  returned 
one  night  from  a  scene  of  revelry  and  mirth,  his  noise- 
less step  was  unperceived ;  and  as  he  approached  the 
door  of  his  room,  the  tones  of  a  gentle  voice,  in  car- 
nest  pleading  before  the  throne  of  grace,  fell  upon  his 
ear.  It  was  his  threatened,  ill-used  wife,  bending  in 
prayer  for  her  erring  husband's  salvation.  His  heart 
was  touched  ;  the  sword  of  the  Spirit  pierced  its  ada- 
mantine sheath  of  rebellion  and  sin;  and  silently, 
with  the  tears  streaming  from  his  eyes,  he  too  knelt 
beside  her— he  too  joined  in  the  prayer  for  mercy. 


WOMAN'S   FAITH   AND  PATIENCE.  193 

What  a  change  had  God  wrought!  He  who  in  his 
pride  had  despised  the  humble  followers  of  Christ, 
was  now  foremost  in  deeds  of  humility  and  love.  In- 
stead of  being  engrossed  in  the  pursuit  of  pleasure, 
the  ordinances  of  God  were  now  his  delight,  the  story 
of  redeeming  love  his  changeless  theme  ;  and  husband 
and  wife,  sundering  the  ties  that  bound  them  to  the 
gay  world,  pressed  in  singleness  of  mind  "  toward  the 
mark  for  the  prize  of  the  high  calling  of  God  in 
Christ  Jesus."  s. 


WOMAN'S  FAITH  AND  PATIENCE. 

In  the  year  18 — ,  I  knew  a  beautiful  young  girl, 

whose  father  lived  near  the  village  of  A ,  South 

Carolina,  and  who  was  early  wedded  to  the  man  of 
her  heart.  With  the  accomplishments  of  education, 
refinement,  and  wealth,  she  had  also,  by  the  grace  of 
God,  that  of  sterling  piety. 

At  the  death  of  her  father,  tlie  husband  found  him- 
self in  possession  of  a  very  handsome  estate  ;  but  it  is 
hard  to  resist  the  smiles  of  fortune  and  the  sunshine 
of  prosperity.  He  at  once  became  a  devotee  of  the 
world,  and  a  lover  of  pleasure.  He  soon  loved  to 
tarry  long  at  the  wine,  then  to  follow  strong  drink  ; 
he  became  involved  in  debt,  and  was  forced  to  sell 
much  of  his  property  to  pay  his  creditors.     After  a 

while,  he  removed  and  settled  in  the  county  of  I , 

where  he  purchased  a  piece  of  land  for  cultivation. 

At  this  time  I  went  to  live  with  him,  and  remained 
with  the  family  about  thirteen  months.  And  during 
tliis  period  I  never  knew  him  to  go  to  bed,  the  night 
of  Sunday  exce})tcd,  without  needing  assistance,  from 
tlie  effects  of  partial  intoxication.     It  was  a  reinark- 

Skftchei  9 


194  SKETCHES  FUOM  LIFE. 

able  fact,  that  tliougli  this  evil  habit  held  him  with  a 
giant's  grasp,  and  had  led  him  to  degrade  himself,  to  dis- 
grace his  children,  and  almost  to  break  liis  poor  wife's 
heart,  yet  such  was  the  indelible  impression  made  on 
him  in  childhood  by  pious  parents,  in  regard  to  the 
sacred  observance  of  the  Sabbath,  that  I  never  knew 
him  to  break  it  by  getting  drunk  on  that  holy  day. 

Tliat  devoted  Avoman — Betsey,  lie  called  her — I 
have  seen  meet  that  drunken  husband  more  than  one 
hundred  and  fifty  times,  laying  aside  her  work,  or 
putting  down  her  child  from  her  arms,  to  assist  him, 
reeling  and  tottering,  from  his  horse,  and  conduct  him 
safely  into  tlie  house.  And  during  all  this,  and  in- 
deed while  I  was  there,  1  never  heard  her  use  an 
unkind  word,  or  give  him  a  rebuke. 

One  fine  bright  morning,  I  saw  him  start  for  court 
dressed  from  head  to  foot  in  a  neat  suit,  every  thread 
of  which  Betsey  had  spun  and  woven  with  her  fingers. 
Alas,  I  saw  him  return  home  again — how  changed, 
sadly  changed!  He  was  not  only  beastly  drunk,  but 
one  skirt  of  his  new  coat  was  torn  nearly  off,  and  he 
was  almost  covered  witli  mud  and  dirt.  His  wife  met 
him  as  usual,  only  saying,  "Never  mind,  Billy,  I  can 
sew  the  skirt  of  that  coat  so  that  it  can  hardly  be 
seen,  and  to-morrow  I  will  see  what  I  can  do  towards 
taking  that  mud  off." 

But  again,  from  the  intemperate  habits  of  the 
father  and  husband,  their  little  farm  was  sold,  and 
they  removed  further  back,  into  the  wild,  rough  moun- 
tains of  G .     I  did  not  go  with  them,  but  I  heard 

that  there  they  rented  a  poor  piece  of  land,  bought 
an  old  iiouse,  and  by  this  time  tliey  had  a  son  large 
enough  to  plough.     He  ploughed  the  land,  Betsey 


WOMAN'S  FAITH  AND  PATIENCE.  195 

sowed  the  oats  and  wheat,  and  planted  the  corn,  pull- 
ed the  fodder,  and  helped  to  gather  in  the  crop  in  the 
fall.  A  delicate  woman,  reared  in  the  lap  of  luxury 
and  refinement,  brought  to  such  toil  and  drudgery ! 
And  "yet  it  is  said  that  at  the  harvest-time  she  would 
sing  and  praise  God  for  his  mercies  in  blessing  her 
handiwork,  and  giving  her  family  "daily  bread." 

Time  passed  on.     Being  in  the  village  of  C 

on  Saturday,  I  met  a  circuit  preacher  of  the  Methodist 
church,  with  whom  I  had  been  long  acquainted.  He 
asked  me  to  accompany  him  into  the  mountains,  and 
preach  at  an  appointment  which  he  had  promised  to 
fill  on  the  morrow.  After  some  hesitation,  I  consent- 
ed to  do  so. 

When  the  hour  of  worship  arrived,  and  I  preached 
from  the  words,  "  Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  labor 
and  are  heavy-laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest,"  while 
I  was  pointing  out  to  the  sinner  the  happy  results  of 
coming  to  Christ,  though  he  might  have  to  labor, 
though  sin  wearied  him,  and  though  it  oppressed  him 
as  a  heavy  burden  grievous  to  be  borne,  I  heard  a 
voice  which  seemed  to  come  from  the  corner  of  the 
congregation,  saying,  "  Thank  God,  I  have  experi- 
enced all  that;  I  came  to  Christ  'laboring,'  'weary,' 
and  '  heavy-laden,'  and  I  found  relief."  I  paused  to 
listen,  for  I  thought  I  had  heard  that  voice  before. 
It  was  Billy's  voice.  And  soon,  in  another  part  of 
the  house,  I  heard  a  female  voice  thanking  God  for 
his  goodness  and  faithfulness  in  hearing  and  answer- 
ing her  prayers.  That  was  Betsey's  voice.  Then  I 
heard  the  voice  of  children  weeping,  and  saw  them 
raise  up  their  hands  to  heaven  in  adoration.  They 
were  Billv's  and  Bctscv's  children. 


196  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

To  my  great  joy,  I  learned  that  Billy  had  for  some 
time  been  a  consistent  member  of  tlie  church,  and  it 
was  now  no  more  a  cursed,  miserable  family,  but  they 
were  all  journeying  towards  heaven.  Betsey  long  had 
been,  and  now  Billy  was,  a  pilgrim  and  a  traveller  to 
that  "  better  country."  Their  home  was  blessed  with 
peace  and  joy. 

See  the  power  of  woman's  faith  and  patience.  For 
thirty  years  had  Betsey  been  besieging  the  throne  of 
grace.  And  all  this  while  she  staggered  not  at  the 
promises  of  God,  and  he  at  last  heard  her,  and  sent 
her  heart's  desire.  Prayer  opens  heaven.  "My  soul, 
wait  thou  only  upon  God,  for  my  expectation  is  from 
him."  A  Pastor. 


THE  FAITHFUL  WIFE. 

God  had  revived  his  work  in  many  churches  in  the 

city  of  B ;  multitudes  of  weary  sinners  had  sought 

and  found  rest  in  Him  who  is  exalted  to  give  repent- 
ance and  forgiveness  of  sins.     J H was  a 

sceptic  and  scoffer^  but  one  evening  was  led  by  his 
affectionate,  pious  wife  to  hear  the  gospel.  On  their 
return  home,  he  solemnly  asserted  his  intention  to  go 
no  more.  "  Why  not,  my  dear  husband  ?"  said  the 
alarmed  lady.  "  I  was  both  provoked  and  insulted," 
said  he  ;  "  that  entire  sermon  on  infidelity  was  preach- 
ed at  me  ;  and  scarcely  one  in  the  house  but  knew  it.  I 
have  for  ever  done  with  church-going  and  preacliing." 

Weeks  elapsed  ;  the  wife  prayed,  and  friends  pray- 
ed for  this  deluded  man — and  God  heard  their  cry. 

Said  the  deeply  concerned  Mrs.  H one  evening, 

"  Dear,  will  you  grant  me  one  little  request  ?"    Being 


A  MINISTER'S  SON  AND  HIS   WIFE.  197 

unwilling  to  promise  till  he  knew  its  purport,  she 
continued,  "Go  with  me  to-night  to  meeting."  "I 
will  go  to  the  door,  but  no  further,"  said  he.  "  That 
will  do,"  said  this  amiable  Christian.  They  went  to- 
gether, parted  at  the  entrance,  her  heart  absorbed  as 
she  took  her  seat  in  fervent  prayer  for  her  beloved 
partner.  Some  minutes  elapsed,  and  service  had  com- 
menced, when  suddenly  the  door  opened,  a  heavy  step 
advanced,  and  to  her  unspeakable  joy,  her  husband 
calmly  seated  himself  near  her. 

That  night  Mr.  H was  interested  and  affect- 
ed. Hope  beat  high  among  his  friends.  The  next 
evening  after  tea,  as  Mr.  and  Mrs.  H sat  con- 
versing at  their  pleasant  fireside,  he  rose,  and  while  a 
tear  dropped  from  his  cheeks,  "  Wife,"  said  he,  "  is  it 
not  time  to  go  to  church  V  She  sprung  from  her  chair, 
and  though  it  was  early  by  an  hour  and  a  half,  she 
feared  delay ;  and  taking  hat  and  cloak,  they  went. 

That  was  the  happiest  night  of  her  life,  for  Mr.  H 

presented  himself  a  humble  inquirer  for  the  way  of 
salvation,  and  numbered  many  years  in  his  Redeem- 
er's service.  All  who  knew  him  believe  that,  under 
God,  he  owed  what  he  is  to  the  sweet  influences  of  a 
loving,  patient,  meek.  Christian  wife:  "For  what 
knowest  thou,  0  wife,  whether  thou  shalt  save  thy 
husband?"     1  Cor.  7  :  16.  D. 


A   MINISTER'S   SON   AND   HIS  WIFE. 

If  the  son  of  a  minister  turns  out  badly,  some  are 

ready  to  say  it  is  so  with  all  ministers'  sons.     E 

R ,  the  son  of  one  of  the  best  pastors  in  New 


198  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

Hampshire,  was  fast  confirming  the  false  proverb. 
He  grew  up,  and  left  home  with  no  religion.  All  the 
faithful  instruction  and  prayers  of  his  devoted  parents 
seemed  to  fall  powerless  on  his  rocky  heart.  His 
father,  on  his  death-bed,  wrung  with  grief  that  his 
son  had  outbraved  all  parental  tears  and  warnings, 
prayed  most  fervently  for  •  his  salvation  ;  but  left  the 
world  with  nothing  in  him  to  encourage  his  hopes. 

When  I  first  saw  him,  it  was  in  Northern  Ver- 
mont. He  had  married  an  amiable  lady,  and  lived 
on  a  farm.  I  gave  him  the  tract,  "  Quench  not  the 
Spirit ;"  saying  to  him,  that  if  he  was  yet  a  stranger 
to  God,  he  might  find  it  contained  a  message  for  him. 
At  length,  I  noticed  him  at  a  meeting  wliere  I  was  to 
preach.  He  had  come  a  long  distance.  At  the  inter- 
mission, I  made  my  way  to  him,  and  soon  found  that 
his  mind  was  tender — that  his  great  concern  was  for 
his  soul. 

Not  many  weeks  after,  I  went  to  see  him.  He 
was  rejoicing  in  hope,  and  liis  wife  was  in  distress  of 
mind  for  herself.  I  asked  him  to  tell  me  what  awak- 
ened him.  He  went  into  the  other  room,  and  brought 
me  that  tract.  ''  When  I  first  read  it,"  he  said,  "  it 
seemed  a  message  from  God."  He  read  it  again  and 
again.  "  Then,"  said  he,  "  all  the  warnings  and  pray- 
ers of  my  good  old  father  came  before  me.  I  felt  that 
I  had  slighted  them  all,  and  had  grieved  the  Holy 
Spirit  to  leave  me  for  ever.  But  I  took  up  my  long- 
neglected  Bible,  and  read  and  begged  for  mercy.  And 
now  I  rejoice  in  the  Lord." 

In  a  few  days,  his  wife  too  was  led  to  Christ ;  and 
both  rejoiced  in  the  great  salvation.  They  became 
members  of  the  church,  and  adorned  their  profession. 


THE  TROUBLED  CONSCIENCE.  199 

Bretliren  in  the  ministry,  let  us  at  all  times  be 
furnished  with  tracts  ;  and  after  having  read  and  pon- 
dered the  burning  truths  they  contain,  let  us  boldly, 
yet  courteously,  approach  the  sinner  on  all  suitable 
occasions,  giving  him  a  word  of.  warning.  Many,  in 
the  great  day,  shall  we  meet  in  heaven  as  the  final 
result.  s.  M. 


THE   TROUBLED   CONSCIENCE. 

Mrs.  Frances  L was  an  intelligent  lady,  a  dili- 
gent reader  of  the  Scriptures,  and  a  regular  attendant 
upon  the  ministry  of  the  word  ;  yet  she  was  not  a 
Christian.  In  my  pastoral  visits,  I  urged  upon  her 
the  duty  of  immediately  and  earnestly  seeking  an  in- 
terest in  the  Saviour  of  sinners,  that  by  his  grace  she 
might  be  enabled  to  rejoice  in  hope  of  the  glory  of 
God,  and  be  better  qualified  to  discharge  the  solemn 
obligations  of  a  wife  and  mother.  Sometimes  she 
would  plead,  that  in  early  life  she  had  made  the  at- 
tempt to  be  a  Christian,  and  had  failed,  and  it  would 
be  useless  to  try  again:  at  other  times,  she  would 
urge  that  her  time  to  serve  God  had  not  yet  come; 
and  not  unfrequcntly,  the  imperfections  of  professing 
Christians  furnished  her  with  an  excuse,  lest  she,  like 
them,  should  be  a  stumbling-block  to  others. 

On  one  occasion,  after  a  season  of  prayer,  I  asked 
her  if  she  would  not  then  promise  me  before  God  to 
make  one  honest  effort  for  the  salvation  of  her  soul, 
and  paused  for  a  reply.  After  a  few  moments  of  pro- 
found stillness,  she  said,  with  characteristic  firmness 
and  decision,  "  I  will."     Having  made  this  solemn 


200  SKETCHES   FROM  LIFE. 

promise,  she  felt  bound  to  keep  it,  altliovigli  at  times 
she  regretted  having  made  it.  She  sought  the  Lord 
earnestly  by  prayer,  and  while  she  did  so,  her  sense 
of  guilt  became  overpowering,  and  the  anguish  of  her 
soul  indescribable.  In  vain  she  read  the  word  of 
God,  in  vain  she  prayed  for  relief;  no  rest,  no  com- 
fort, no  peace  could  she  find ;  hope  died  within  her, 
no  promise  fell  upon  her  ear,  no  light  shone  into  her 
soul;  she  thought  her  case  was  peculiar,  that  never 
was  any  poor  sinner  so  miserable  as  slie. 

While  thus  distressed,  and  sighing  as  she  went 
about  her  domestic  affairs,  she  discovered  in  one  of 
her  closets  a  soiled  pamphlet,  "The  troubled  Con- 
science.'' That  was  her  case.  She  read  it  with  in- 
terest, with  wonder  and  astonishment,  for  she  found 
her  case  was  not  peculiar;  the  feelings  of  another 
were  the  counterpart  of  her  own.  The  remedy  was 
pointed  out,  the  peace-speaking  blood  of  Jesus.  She 
saw  its  fitness,  she  saw  its  fulness;  faith  and  hope 
sprung  up  in  her  heart ;  her  load  of  guilt  was  remov- 
ed ;  and  with  a  heart  overflowing  with  gratitude,  she 
fell  upon  her  knees,  and  returned  thanks  to  God  ''for 
his  unspeakable  gift." 

Of  her  spiritual  exercises  she  had  never  spoken  to 
her  husband  ;  she  knew  not  how  he  would  regard  her 
if  she  became  a  Christian,  but  it  was  her  duty  to  speak 
to  him  upon  the  subject.  Upon  a  Sabbath  evening, 
after  his  return  from  meeting,  she  told  him  in  tender 
tones  what  the  Lord  had  done  for  her  soul,  and  bowed 
before  the  Lord  by  the  side  of  her  dear  companion, 
and  prayed  most  earnestly  for  his  conversion.  That 
prayer  was  an  arrow  to  his  soul.  The  Spirit  of  God 
reached  his  heart,  and  after  some  days  of  intense 


THE  LOST   BANKNOTE.  201 

agony,  he  too  was  brought  into  the  light  and  liberty 
of  tlic  gospel,  rejoicing  in  God,  with  his  wife,  whom 
God  had  made  the  instrument  of  his  salvation.  Not 
long  afterwards,  they  both  were  received  by  baptism 
into  the  fellowship  of  the  church.       a  Grateful  Pastor. 


THE   LOST  BANK-NOTE. 

Mr.  A was  an  irreligious  man,  nearly  sixty 

years  of  age.  He  had  long  neglected  the  house  of 
God,  and  indulged  in  the  use  of  profane  language. 
One  day  he  lost  a  bank-note  in  his  barn.  He  sought 
for  it  several  times,  but  did  not  find  it.  At  length  he 
said  to  himself,  "That  note  is  in  the  barn,  and  1  will 
search  for  it  till  I  find  it  J'  Accordingly  he  went  to 
the  barn,  and  carefully  moved  straw  and  hay,  hour 
after  hour,  till  he  found  the  note. 

He  had  told  me,  two  months  before,  that  he  knew 
that  his  soul  was  not  right  with  God,  and  he  intended 
to  live  a  better  life,  and  seek  salvation.  His  anxiety 
increased.  A  few  weeks  after  he  lost  the  note,  he 
sat  by  the  fire  musing  on  the  state  of  his  soul,  when 
he  turned  to  his  wife  and  asked,  "  What  must  one  do 
to  become  a  Christian  ?"  "  You  must  seek  for  it," 
she  replied,  "  as  you  sought  for  the  bank-note."'  She 
said  no  more.  It  was  "a  word  fitly  spoken.''  He 
tried  to  follow  the  direction,  and  through  the  grace 
and  mercy  of  Christ,  he  found  the  '"pearl  of  great 
price,"'  and  rejoiced  in  hope  of  the  glory  of  God. 

There  is  a  treasure  for  you,  reader,  precious  be- 
yond the  power  of  words  or  figures  to  express.  There 
is  salvation  and  heaven  for  you,  and  eternal  glory,  if 
9* 


202  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

you  will  seek  it  with  all  your  heart,  believing  that  it 
can  be  found,  and  resolved  to  find  it.  If  you  have 
not  sought  it  thus,  you  have  disparaged  it,  treating  it 
as  if  it  were  not  worth  such  earnest  regard.     P.  o. 


INFLUENCE   OF   A  WIFE. 

Among  the  early  settlers  in  L ,  Greene  county. 

New  York,  on  the  Catskill  mountains,  religion  hardly 
had  a  name.  But  there  were  two  females  who  met 
weekly  for  prayer.  The  Lord  heard  their  cry:  a 
small  church  was  gathered,  which  was  soon  visited 
with  a  revival  of  religiou,  and  several  of  the  most 
respectable  families  were  brought  into  its  communion. 

Among  those  added  to  the  church  was  Mrs.  T. 

P ,  Avho  earnestly  sought  the  blessing  of  God  on 

her  unconverted  husband  and  children  ;  but  he  be- 
came decidedly  opposed  to  all  religion,  and  persecut- 
ed his  wife  in  various  ways.  She  was  not  permitted 
to  pray  with  her  children  in  the  house,  but  used  daily 
to  retire  to  the  barn,  and  there  worship  that  Saviour 
whose  birthplace  was  a  manger.  She  was  decided  in 
every  Christian  duty,  but  yielded,  as  far  as  she  could 
conscientiously,  to  the  wishes  of  her  husband. 

Mr.  P was  a  man  of  high  spirit.     He  became 

excessively  fond  of  company,  and  used  to  spend  his 
Saturdays  at  a  public-house,  where  he  indulged  in 
drinking  freely,  and  by  his  associates  was  called  "  Old 
Head." 

In  the  early  part  of  May,  more  than  forty  years 

since,  one  Saturday  evening  Mr.  P returned  from 

his  associates,  and  found  his  pious  wife,  who  had  com- 


INFLUExVCE  OF  A  WIFE.  203 

mended  her  family  to  God  for  the  night,  engaged  in 
reading: 

"  What  book  have  you  there?"'  said  he. 

"  I  liave  tlie  Connecticut  Evangelical  Magazine.'' 

"Where  did  you  get  it?" 

"  It  was  left  for  me  by  my  friend  B ,  who 

called  to  see  me  this  afternoon." 

"This  Mr.  B has  determined  to  ruin  the  peace 

and  liappiness  of  my  family.  You  shall  not  read  the 
book.     Put  it  up,  and  go  to  your  rest." 

Mrs.  P replied,  "  I  will  lay  by  the  book  be- 
cause my  husband  requires  it,  though  it  is  a  great 
sacrifice,  as  I  am  much  interested  in  it.  The  blessed 
Bible  teaches  me  submission  to  the  will  of  my  hus- 
band." 

They  retired  to  rest — the  bo.^^om  of  the  one  full  of 
holy  peace  and  anxious  solicitude  for  her  wandering 
husband ;  the  bosom  of  the  other  full  of  dark  and 
fiend-like  passions,  cursing  God,  and  persecuting  his 
people. 

Soon  Mr.  P arose,  saying,  "  I  cannot  sleep 

with  one  so  religious  and  saintlike  as  you  are."  She 
proposed  to  retire  to  another  room,  but  this  he  would 
not  allow.     The  night  was  spent  in  silent  but  ardent 

prayer  by  Mrs.  P ,  and  in  anxious  tossings  and 

bitter  revilings  by  her  husband. 

In  the  morning,  the  children  as  usual  were  assem- 
bled in  the  barn,  and  commended  to  God  by  the  pious, 
heart-broken  mother,  and  in  due  time  were  all  neatly 

clad  for  the  house  of  God,  when  Mrs.  P gently 

asked  her  husband  if  he  would  not  accompany  them. 
With  an  oath  he  replied,  "  No ;  I  do  not  believe  in 
the  stuff  taught  there  for  religion."    With  deep  solic- 


204  SKETCHES   FROM  LIFE. 

itude  she  bent  her  steps  to  the  sanctuary,  where,  with 
his  people,  she  could  cast  her  burden  on  that  Arm 
pledged  to  sustain  her. 

Mr.  P •  was  now  left  alone,  and  to  the  most 

bitter  reflections.  The  amiable,  decided,  and  consci- 
entious deportment  of  his  wife  ;  her  patient  sufferings 
from  his  irascible  temper  ;  her  firmness  in  every  relig- 
ious duty,  shone  with  such  lustre-  that  the  contrast 
led  him  to  see  that  there  was  a  difference  between  the 
righteous  and  the  wicked  here,  and  must  be  hereafter. 
For  a  moment,  he  thought  he  would  follow  his  wife 
to  the  house  of  God ;  and  then,  with  his  razor  in  his 
hand,  he  was  about  to  take  his  own  life ;  but  God 
was  near,  and  he  put  away  the  instrument  of  death. 

"When  the  time  of  the  afternoon  service  arrived, 
his' wife  again  invited  him  to  accompany  lier ;  but  his 
spirit  was  unyielding,  and  he  promptly  said  he  would 
not.  After  she  had  gone,  however,  he  determined 
that  for  once  he  would  go. 

He  went,  with  a  heart  rankling  with  hatred  to 
God  and  his  people ;  but  he  soon  became  awed  at  the 
presence  of  Jehovah  in  his  sanctuary.  His  soul  Avas 
deeply  agitated  until  the  close  of  the  last  prayer, 
when,  with  wonder  and  astonishment,  he  beheld  by 
faith  "  the  Lamb  of  God,  who  taketh  away  the  sin  of 
the  world."  His  proud  heart  was  humbled  ;  God  was 
exalted ;  his  people  loved  ;  and  to  use  his  own  words, 
every  spear  of  grass  seemed  to  praise  its  Maker. 

He  returned  home,  begged  his  wife's  forgiveness, 
acknowledged  his  sin  against  God  and  her,  and  ex- 
pressed his  hope  of  pardon  through  the  merits  of  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ. 

The  grateful  joy  of  Mrs.  P cannot  be  describ- 


THE  AURORA  BOREALIS.  £05 

ed.  Her  persecuting  husband  was  now  a  man  of 
prayer;  the  unnatural  father  was  now  the  pious  and 
devoted  leader  of  his  household  at  the  throne  of 
grace. 

On  sitting  down  at  his  first  meal,  his  reflections 
were- most  bitter.  "From  deep  poverty,'"'  said  he,  "I 
have  been  raised  to  a  comfortable  living;  God  has 
provided  for  me ;  but  I  have  been  rebellious  against 
him."  He  asked  God's  blessing,  and  forgiveness  for 
past  ingratitude.  At  evening  he  called  his  family 
around  him,  confessed  his  sins  to  his  children,  prayed 
for  and  with  them ;  and  for  more  than  thirty  years 
was  a  consistent,  devoted  Christian,  and  a  deacon  of 
the  church  at  L .  h.  h. 


THE   AURORA  BOREALIS. 

But  few  that  saw  it  will  ever  forget  the  Aurora, 
or  Northern  Light,  which  occurred  in  the  winter  of 
1836-7.  It  was  pronounced  at  the  time  the  most 
brilliant  and  general  that  had  been  seen  by  any  living 
man.  It  was  not  confined,  as  it  usually  is,  to  the 
northern  section  of  the  heavens.  The  whole  horizon 
was  illumined  by  arches  of  fiery  hue,  from  which  col- 
umns and  sheaves  of  light,  of  the  most  variegated  and 
beautiful  colors,  shot  up  towards  the  zenith,  forming 
there  a  fiery  coronet  of  the  most  transcendent  beauty. 
The  agitation  of  these  columns  and  sheaves  was  some- 
times very  great.  Of  a  sudden  these  agitations  would 
cease,  and  the  light  would  die  away,  and  the  heavens 
would  resume  their  wonted  appearance ;  but  in  a  mo- 
ment these  columns  would  shoot  up  again  in  increased 


206 


SKETCHES  FROM   LIFE. 


size,  and  with  greater  splendor,  giving  an  appearance 
of  brilliancy  and  grandeur  to  the  heavens  which  call- 
ed forth  the  loud  acclamations  of  the  admiring  be- 
holders. For  some  weeks  previous  the  earth  had 
been  covered  with  a  deep  snow,  which  a  cold  frost 
had  made  to  sparkle  with  a  peculiar  brilliancy;  and 
such  was  the  effect  upon  it  of  the  Aurora,  that  streets, 
fields,  and  houses  looked  as  if  they  were  covered  with 
blood.  This  remarkable  phenomenon  only  disap- 
peared from  the  sky  as  the  morning  light  began  to 
dawn. 

Not  long  afterwards  I  observed,  on  Sabbath  even- 
ing, and  on  the  evening  of  the  weekly  service,  in  a 
corner  of  my  lecture-room,  a  female  who  was  a  stran- 


THE  AURORA  BOREALIS.  20T 

ger  to  mc,  and  obviously,  to  the  place.  Her  atten- 
tion was  marked  ;  her  attendance  became  regular. 
"Weeks  passed  away  without  my  knowing  who  she 
was.  I  received  a  request  to  visit  a  family  where 
was  a  woman  anxious  about  her  soul.  As  I  entered 
the  door  I  was  met  by  the  stranger  I  had  seen  in  the 
lecture-room.  I  was  favorably  impressed  by  her  sub- 
dued and  respectful  manner,  her  great  frankness  and 
candor,  and  her  deep  solicitude  to  know  the  way  to 
be  saved.  Taking  my  seat  by  her  side,  and  after 
hearing  her  account  of  her  feelings,  I  asked  her  if  she 
understood  the  plan  of  salvation  through  Jesus  Christ. 
Her  reply  was,  "I  am  afraid  I  do  not.'' 

"Then,  madam,"  said  I,  "will  you  permit  me  to 
explain  it  to  you  in  a  brief  and  simple  manner?" 

"  That,"  said  she,  "  is  the  very  thing  I  want  you  to 
do." 

''Well,  then,"  said  I,  addressing  her  personally, 
and  applying  every  word  to  herself,  "you  are  a  sin- 
ner in  heart  and  in  life.  God  is  angry  with  you 
every  day.  Every  sin  you  have  ever  committed  de- 
serves eternal  banishment  from  God.  So  that  you 
deserve  to  die  as  often  as  you  have  sinned.  From  the 
guilt  and  punishment  of  sin  you  cannot  relieve  your- 
self— nor  can  man  or  angel  relieve  you — nor  can  bap- 
tism or  the  Lord's  supper,  or  any  other  rite,  relieve 
you.  And  such  is  the  nature  of  your  sin,  and  of  the 
justice  and  government  of  God,  that  you  cannot  be 
saved  unless  law  and  justice  are  satisfied  for  the  many 
sins  you  have  committed." 

I  st0{)ped  a  moment  to  see  tlie  eftect  of  all  tin's 
upon  her  mind.  Looking  at  me  with  a  tearful  eye, 
she  replied  in  a  subdued  tone,  "I  feel  all  this  in  my 


208  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

soul.  My  fear  of  the  anger  of  God  which  my  sins 
have  kindled,  is  so  great  that  I  cannot  sleep  or  cat. 
My  tears  flow  day  and  night." 

"  But,"  said  I,  "  there  is  a  way  of  escape  from  the 
guilt  and  the  punishment  of  sin.  You  are  a  sinner; 
and  Jesus  Christ  has  died  for  sinners.  He  bore  the 
sins  of  all  who  ever  have,  or  ever  will  believe  upon 
him,  in  his  own  body  on  the  tree.  The  law  requires 
us  to  be  righteous,  in  order  to  enter  heaven;  and 
Christ  Jesus  is  the  end  of  the  law  for  righteousness 
to  every  one  that  believes  upon  him.  If  you  feel 
yourself  to  be  a  sinner,  you  have  nothing  to  do  but  to 
believe  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  in  order  to  be  saved. 
If  you  repent  of  sin,  and  believe  in  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ — if  you  believe  Avhat  Jesus  teaches,  if  you  do 
as  he  commands — if  now,  without  a  moment's  delay, 
you  can  trust  your  soul  and  its  concerns  in  the  hands 
of  Jesus  Christ,  without  waiting  until  you  are  cither 
better  or  worse,  he  will  certainly  save  you ;  for  he 
says,  "  Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy- 
laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest." 

With  her  bright  and  beaming  eye  fixed  upon  me, 
she  drank  in  every  word  that  I  uttpred  ;  and  when  I 
concluded,  she  promptly  replied,  "This  is  just  the  way 
that  suits  my  case."  "  Are  you  willing  now,"  said  I, 
"  to  believe  in  Christ ;  to  cast  yourself  upon  the  merits 
of  his  atonement;  to  take  him  to  be  your  Saviour  from 
all  sin?"  "Yes,"  said  she,  with  the  eagerness  of  a 
drowning  man  catching  hold  of  the  boat  sent  out  to 
his  rescue,  "yes,  I  take  him  now  to  be  my  Saviour ;  I 
cast  myself  now  upon  the  merits  of  his  atonement." 

I  prayed  witli  her.  Wlicn  we  arose  from  our 
knees  her  whole  exi)ression  Avas  cliangcd,  and  a  new 


THE  AURORA  BOREALIS.  209 

song  "vras  put  into  her  mouth.  I  felt  there  was  a  new 
trophy  to  redeeming  grace  and  love  before  me. 

I  now  felt  greatly  desirous  to  know  something 
about  her  history,  the  leading  incidents  of  which  she 
gave  me  with  great  frankness.  She  was  born  and 
educated  a  Roman-catholic,  Though  well  educated, 
she  was  on  the  subject  of  religion  extremely  ignorant. 
Although  now  in  mid-life,  and  the  mother  of  children, 
all  the  attention  she  ever  gave  to  her  soul  was  to  go 
to  mass  and  to  confession ;  and  even  that  she  had 
given  up  for  years,  convinced  of  their  utter  worthless- 
ness.  And  up  to  the  evening  of  the  Aurora  Borealis 
she  never  had  a  conviction  of  her  sinfulness.  With 
thousands  of  others  she  gazed  upon  the  brilliant  heav- 
ens, and  the  apparently  ci'imsoned  earth.  The  thought 
of  the  final  conflagration,  and  of  her  utter  unfitness  to 
meet  that  dreadful  scene,  seized  her  mind,  and  she 
retired  to  her  room  deeply  impressed  with  the  great- 
ness of  God,  and  her  own  sinfulness  and  ingratitude. 
Then  was  made  the  first  of  those  impressions  which 
resulted  in  her  conversion. 

Her  husband  was  a  Frenchman,  of  Protestant  par- 
entage, but  utterly  regardless  of  religion.  When  he 
returned  home,  on  the  evening  of  the  day  of  my  visit, 
she  told  him  of  my  conversation  with  her,  and  its 
effects  upon  her  mind  and  heart.  She  read  to  him 
from  the  Bible,  and  prayed  with  him.  With  his  con- 
sent she  erected  the  family  altar.  Her  fidelity  to  him, 
and  her  deep  anxiety  for  his  salvation,  created  some 
restiveness,  and  he  refused  to  hear  her.  .  In  the  deep- 
est distress  she  sought  my  advice.  I  told  her  to 
increase  her  supplications  for  him  in  private,  but  to 
do  nothing  that  would  fret  his  mind,  as  that  would  be 


210  SKETCHES  FROM   LIFE. 

to  defeat  her  great  object.  She  retired,  resolved  to 
follow  my  advice. 

Some  weeks  had  passed  away  witliout  my  knowing 
any  thing  of  what  was  going  on  in  this  little  family. 
On  a  Sabbath  evening,  after  a  day  of  peculiar  solem- 
nity in  the  house  of  the  Lord,  and  when  with  a  de- 
jected spirit  I  was  thinking  that  I  had  spent  my 
strength  for  naught,  she  appeared  in  my  study  with 
her  husband.  She  narrated  her  conversation  and 
prayers  witli  him,  and  he  frankly  confessed  his  oppo- 
sition of  heart  to  her  change  of  mind,  and  especially 
to  her  conduct  towards  him  in  pressing  religion  upon 
him  on  all  occasions.  ''But,"  said  he,  "her  prayers 
and  tears  have  broke  my  heart." 

"I  told  John,"  said  slie,  "that  if  you  would  tell 
him  what  you  told  me,  he  would  love  God  too,  and 
that  he  would  feel  better  in  his  mind  and  heart.  I 
have  strove  to  tell  him  all,  but  he  does  not  understand 
me  well  enough,  and  I  wish  you  to  tell  him  about 
Jesus  Christ."  After  hearing  with  intense  interest 
their  narratives  as  to  each  other's  conduct,  I  spread 
out  before  John  the  plan  of  salvation,  essentially  as 
I  had  done  a  few  weeks  previous  before  his  wife. 
When  I  got  through,  I  asked  him,  "How  does  this 
plan  appear  to  you  ?"  His  reply  was,  "  It  is  the  very 
one  for  me;  I  can  now  and  cordially  embrace  it."  I 
prayed  with  them,  and  when  we  rose  from  our  knees 
John  seemed  a  changed  man.  Before  he  left  my 
study  he  felt  that  he  could  rejoice  in  Clirist  as  his 
Saviour. 

Not  long  after,  they  professed  tlicir  faith  in  Clirist, 
and  although  for  years  beyond  the  bounds  of  my  min- 
istry, I  believe  tliey  lived  to  adorn  tliat  profession; 


RETURN  OF   THE  PRODIGAL.  211 

and  their  conversion  may  be  traced  up  as  a  means, 
under  God,  to  the  aurora  borealis. 

How  plainly  this  narrative  teaches  the  following 
truths : 

The  means  of  God  for  impressing  the  minds  of 
sinners,  and  leading  them  to  himself  for  pardon  and 
salvation,  are  cxhaustless. 

A  clear  understanding  of  the  plan  of  salvation 
througli  a  Saviour,  of  its  freeness  and  fulness,  of  its 
sovereign  efficacy  when  truly  relied  on,  is  the  only 
sure  way  of  securing  peace  to  tiio  anxious  sinner. 

How  important  that  the  believing  wife  should 
labor  for  the  salvation  of  the  unbelieving  husband ; 
and  the  believing  husband  for  that  of  the  unbelieving 
wife! 

A  word  to  the  reader  of  this  narrative.  Are  you 
a  careless  sinner  ?  If  the  aurora  so  impressed  tlie 
mind  of  this  woman,  what  will  be  your  impressions 
when  the  elements  sliall  melt  with  fervent  heat,  when 
the  earth  with  all  that  it  contains  shall  be  consumed? 
Arc  you  an  anxious  sinner?  Then  Jesus  died  for 
sinners  ;  and  he  died  for  you,  because  you  are  a  sin- 
ner. To  be  saved,  you  have  only  to  believe  upon 
him.  Are  you  a  Christian?  Then  rise  from  the 
perusal  of  this  narrative  with  the  resolution  to  labor 
for  the  conversion  of  some  soul,  as  tliis  woman  labored 
for  the  conversion  of  her  husband,  and  yours  may  not 
be  a  starless  crown.  N.  M. 


RETURN    OF   THE   PRODIGAL. 

F was  the  son   of  a  devoted  New  England 

minister,  and  tlie  cliild  of  many  prayers.     His  mind 


212  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

was  carefully  stored  with  religious  knowledge,  and 
disciplined  in  the  best  schools  of  his  native  city.  Evil 
companionships,  however,  early  led  him  astray  from 
the  paths  of  virtue.  A  vicious  liabit  of  novel-reading 
■alienated  him  from  the  open  fountains  of  wisdom,  and 
drew  him  away  from  parental  influence  and  restraint. 

At  length  his  restless  and  adventurous  spirit 
sought  a  sphere  of  unchecked  indulgence,  and  he  went 
to  the  Pacific  coast.  There  he  found  his  associates 
among  the  thoughtless  sons  of  fortune,  and  gave  him- 
self up  to  tlie  life  of  a  homeless  adventurer.  Pros- 
perity and  adversity  served  alike  to  harden  his  heart. 
Early  convictions  were  stifled.  The  house  of  God 
was  neglected. 

But  there  were  bands  in  his  wickedness  stronger 
than  those  of  Satan.  Tlie  anxious  and  aching  hearts 
of  his  parents  were  turned  to  God.  Unceasing,  be- 
lieving prayer  ascended  in  his  behalf.  His  father 
especially,  cherished  the  unwavering  conviction  that 
his  wayward  son,  after  running  the  prodigal's  career 
of  vice  and  folly,  would  trace  the  prodigal's  steps  of 
penitence  and  salvation.  Year  after  year  ho  clung 
to  the  divine  promises,  and  pleaded  them  earnestly  at 
the  mercy-seat.     He  felt  that  he  could  not  be  denied. 

At  length  the  hearts  of  father,  mother,  and  friends 
were  gladdened  by  the  intelligence  that  the  lost  was 
found,  that  the  prodigal  liad  returned.  He  had  vis- 
ited a  remote  South  American  port,  and  on  his  return 
voyage  he  was  the  only  cabin-passenger.  The  captain 
had  depended  on  him  to  furnish  a  supply  of  cards, 
novels,  and  other  sources  of  time-killing,  soul-destroy- 
ing amusements ;  and  he  in  turn,  knowing  the  dispo- 
sition of  the  captain,  had  looked  to  him  for  an  ade- 


RETURN  OF   THE  PRODIGAL.  213 

quate  supply.  The  few  means  of  diversion  Averc  soon 
exhausted,  and  after  being  ten  days  at  sea,  the  young 
ipan  found  nothing  to  do  but  think.  His  past  life 
came  up  in  revievr  before  him,  and  conscience  revived. 
Early  teachings  whispered  around  him.  An  injured 
father's  persevering  faith  and  a  weeping  mother's 
counsels  haunted  his  solitary  berth.  The  emptiness 
of  worldly  pleasures  and  tlie  vanity  of  earthly  plans 
led  him  to  reflect  on  the  surer  joys  and  riches  of  the 
Christian.  He  turned  to  the  word  of  God  and  read 
his  condemnation.  His  guilt  rose  mountain-high,  as 
the  Holy  Spirit  unfolded  the  immaculate  law.  He 
fell  upon  his  knees  and  cried  for  pardon. 

By  one  of  those  providences  which  call  forth  the 
adoration  of  the  devout,  there  were  in  the  cabin  of 
this  ship  copies  of  "Nelson's  Cause  and  Cure  of  Infi- 
delity,"' "  Baxter's  Call  to  the  Unconverted,"  "  James' 
xV.nxious  Inquirer," and  "  Abbott's  Young  Christian" — 
the  first  to  dispel  his  sceptical  doubts,  the  second  to 
fasten  the  arrow  of  conviction  in  his  heart,  the  third 
to  instruct  his  inquiring  soul,  and  the  last  to  present 
encouragements  and  allurements  to  the  Christian  life. 
He  read  them  all  prayerfully.  Before  the  vessel 
landed  at  San  Francisco,  the  great  question  was  set- 
tled, we  hope,  for  ever.  He  found  peace  in  believing, 
and  entered  at  once  on  the  new  life  of  Christian  dis- 
cipleship.  He  made  his  way  immediately  to  the  sanc- 
tuary, engaged  in  Sabbath-school  instruction,  sought 
the  company  of  ministers  and  godly  men,  abandoning 
his  former  companions  in  sin,  or  visiting  them  only  to 
labor  for  their  salvation  ;  and  his  letters  to  his  par- 
ents breathed  the  spirit  of  penitence  and  consecration, 
coupled  with  the  most  touching  expressions  of  grati- 


2U  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

tude  and  affection.  The  "fatted  calf"  would  be  a 
small  testimony  of  the  joy  that  filled  the  house  long 
saddened  by  the  wandering  prodigal,  but  now  glad^ 
dened  by  his  return. 

Christian  parents,  and  especially  those  whose  sons 
are  far  away  from  home  and  from  God,  will  find  en- 
couragement to  their  faith  in  this  narrative.  There 
are  few  cases  apparently  more  hopeless  of  reformation 
and  conversion  tlian  the  one  before  us.  Pride  kept 
him  from  coming  home ;  an  evil  conscience  restrained 
him  from  places  and  companionships  likely  to  benefit 
him :  only  a  vigorous  faith  could  anticipate  the  possi- 
bility of  a  change.  Yet  grace  triumphed ;  God's 
truth  was  vindicated  ;  everlasting  promises  had  their 
fulfilment;  the  prodigal  returned.  Trust  that  grace  ; 
cling  to  those  promises :  your  prodigal  son  may  yet 
be  saved. 

What  an  illustration  of  the  power  of  prayer !  God 
alone  knows  how  earnestly  and  constantly  that  father 
wrestled  for  that  wayward  boy ;  and  how  patiently 
and  calmly  he  expected,  nay,  relied  on  his  conversion. 
And  in  proportion  to  the  darkness  of  external  signs, 
was  the  fervency  of  his  petitions.  All  those  prayers 
were  registered  on  high.  In  God's  time,  always  the 
best  time,  the  answer  descended  in  that  lone  cabin  on 
the  broad  Pacific.  The  providence,  of  God  arranged 
the  circumstances  and  the  means  which  the  Ploly 
Spirit  blessed  in  bringing  to  himself  the  New  England 
prodigal.  "  Praying  breatli "  was  never  "  spent  in 
vain." 

The  value  of  Cibles  and  good  books  on  shipboard 
finds  in  this  narrative  an  admirable  illustration,  for 
the  thousandth  time.     It  is  not  known,  nor  is  it  of 


RETURN  OF  THE  RROUIGAL.       215 

any  account,  by  whose  agency  tlie  precious  volumes  of 
truth  found  their  way  to  the  cabin  of  this  sljip ;  they 
were  in  the  right  place  at  the  right  time.  And  they 
were  blessed  of  God  in  doing  a  work  which  parental 
instruction  and  example,  pastoral  fidelity,  and  provi- 
dential discipline  had  failed  to  do.  0  that  every  ves- 
sel on  every  sea  were  thus  supplied  with  preachers  for 
the  cabin  and  the  forecastle.  Many  a  wayward  youtli, 
many  a  weather-beaten  tar,  might  find  the  blessed 
gospel  their  chart  on  life's  ocean. 

There  are  many  sons  of  praying  parents  who  are 

running  a  career  of  folly  like  that  of  F .    Does  the 

eye  of  one  of  them  rest  on  this  page?  Does  it  suggest 
a  lesson  for  you?  Is  a  prodigal  life  a  happy  life? 
Are  there  not  memories  of  other  and  happier  days 
obtruding  on  the  hours  of  gayety  and  folly,  and  taint- 
ing them  all  ?  Does  not  a  mother's  voice  or  a  father's 
prayer  sometimes  steal  into  the  soul  in  the  silent  hour, 
in  tones  of  tender  expostulation  ?  Does  not  the  wont- 
ed hour  of  family  worship,  when  the  old  family  Bible 
revealed  its  treasures,  and  the  hymn  of  prtiise  rose 
from  the  domestic  group — say,  does  not  this  scene 
sometimes  throw  its  shadow  across  your  spirit,  and 
woo  you  to  the  paths  of  piety  and  peace?  Where  is 
the  Bible  your  fond  mother  placed  in  your  trunk  wlien 
you  left  the  paternal  roof?  Unread?  Neglected? 
What  have  you  done  with  the  pious  book,  the  gift  of 
a  sister's  love  ?  How  will  you  meet  these  witnesses  ■ 
of  Christian  fidelity  and  domestic  affection  at  the  bar 

of  God  ?     Is  not  the  same  Saviour  whom  F found 

on  the  silent  sea  ready  to  receive  you?     Is  not  the 

same  Spirit  that  breathed  into  the  heart  of  F 

hovering  over  your  soul,  and  whispering  of  guilt,  and 


216  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

pardon,  and  hope?  And  will  you  not,  like  him,  say, 
with  a  broken  and  penitent  heart,  "I  will  arise  and 
go  to  my  Father,  and  say  unto  him,  Father,  I  have 
sinned  against  heaven,  and  before  thee,  and  am  no 
more  worthy  to  be  called  thy  sou."  Then  will  be 
heard  on  earth  and  in  heaven  the  words  of  grateful 
exultation,  "  This  my  son  was  dead,  and  is  alive  again : 
he  was  lost,  and  is  found."  u.  s.  c. 


A    YOUNG    CIIOIR    LEADER. 

In  one  of  the  eastern  towns  of  Vermont,  lived  a 
family  by  the  name  of  B ,  consisting  of  grandpar- 
ents, parents,  five  sons,  and  four  daughters.  In  the 
fall  of  1816,  and  the  following  winter,  a  pleasing  work 
of  grace  was  there  enjoyed,  under  the  ministry  of 
.Rev.  N.  B.  Dodge,  afterwards  a  missionary  to  the 

Osage  Indians.    The  second  son  of  Mr.  B ,  a  youth 

of  seventeen  years,  Avas  leader  of  the  choir  at  most  of 
the  meetings,  and  under  the  sermon  one  evening,  was 
deeply  affected.  His  praying  mother  had  for  some 
days  observed  a  change  in  him,  but  hardly  dared 
speak  to  him  on  the  subject  of  his  soul,  lest  she  should 
weaken  his  impressions,  yet  she  pleaded  earnestly  for 
him  at  the  throne  of  grace.  Under  the  sermon  re- 
ferred to,  he  sat  between  two  rude  young  men,  and  as 
•they  were  on  their  way  home,  they  began  to  ridicule 
him  for  being  frightened,  saying  he  was  under  convic- 
tion, and  if  he  was  caught  they  might  all  expect  to  be, 
unless  they  kept  away  from  such  meetings.  He  as- 
sured them  that  there  was  no  ground  for  their  fears, 
and  thus  silenced  their  remarks,  but  was  far  from  si- 


A  YOUNG  CHOIR  LEADER.  217 

lencing  the  reproofs  of  his  own  conscience.  If  he  had 
before  felt  the  gentle  drawings  of  tlie  Holy  Spirit,  and 
heard  his  inviting  voice  to  turn  and  live,  he  now  felt 
as  if  the  thunderings  of  Sinai  were  gathered  over  him, 
and  ready  to  overwhelm  him  in  endless  misery. 

In  this  state  of  mind  he  reached  home,  and  found 
his  mother  awaiting  his  return  in  prayerful  anxiety. 
0  how  that  mother's  heart  yearned  over  her  son ;  and 
how  that  devoted  heart  must  have  bled,  when  he,  re- 
fusing to  hear  a  word  from  her  lips,  rushed  from  her 
presence  to  his  own  room,  in  the  horrors  of  despair. 
But  he  could  not  sleep,  so  deep  were  the  agonies  of 
his  soul.  He  arose  from  his  bed,  lighted  his  lamp, 
and  on  his  table  discovered  a  tract  portraying  the' 
danger  of  grieving  the  Holy  Spirit.  His  despair  was 
increased  almost  to  horror,  and  he  felt  that  there  was 
nothing  before  him  but  tempests  of  endless  wrath. 
He  spent  the  night  almost  in  agony.  His  godly 
mother  and  grandparents  tried  to  speak  comfortably 
to  him,  but  every  allusion  to  Christ  seemed  like  a 
barbed  arrow  to  his  soul.  They  proposed  to  pray 
with  him,  but  he  turned  his  despairing  eyes  upon  his 
mother,  and  said,  "  0  mother,  if  you  love  my  soul,  do 
not  talk  to  me,  do  not  pray  for  me ;  I  have  so  long 
withstood  your  counsel  and  your  prayers,  that  now 
God  cannot  have  mercy  on  me  ;  more  especially  as  I 
have  this  night  denied  the  Holy  Ghost,"  alluding  to 
his  reply  to  his  jeering  companions. 

He  continued  in  this  state  of  mind  about  three 
weeks,  when  he  walked  out  into  a  newly  cleared  piece 
of  land,  and  on  passing  g,  ledge  of  shelving  rocks 
something  seemed  to  whisper  within  him,  "  This  is  a 
beautiful  place  in  wdiich  to  pray."     Without  stopping 

Sketches.  1 0 


218  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

to  reflect,  he  dropped  upon  his  knees  and  attempted 
to  pray,  but  the  heavens  over  him  seemed  as  brass. 
Long  he  remained  on  his  knees,  hardly  daring  to 
speak  the  sacred  name  of  God,  and  with  his  despair- 
ing eyes  upturned,  he  groaned  in  the  agony  of  his 
soul,  but  the  Comforter  did  not  come.  He  arose  and 
walked  on  a  few  yards,  but  seemed  almost  irresistibly 
drawn  back  to  those  shelving  rocks.  He  returned, 
and  again  dropped  upon  his  knees,  resolved  never  to 
rise  until  he  either  received  evidence  of  divine  for- 
giveness and  acceptance,  or  of  divine  rejection.  But 
he  had  not  given  utterance  to  a  word  before  it  seemed 
to  him  that  all  nature  was  filled  with  the  unspeakable 
glories  of  heaven.  He  could  not  give  utterance  to  a 
single  desire  on  his  own  behalf,  for  the  full  emotions 
of  his  heart  burst  forth  in  words  of  praise  to  God  and 
the  Lamb,  for  this  wonderful  display  of  his  infinitely 
glorious  grace.  He  was  unwilling  to  leave  the  place, 
and  lingered  long ;  indeed,  until  his  parents  became 
alarmed  and  sought  him,  finding  him  still  on  his 
knees  offering  up  his  thanks  to  Him  who  had  pur- 
chased him  with  his  own  precious  blood. 

Unperceived,  his  father  approached  him,  and  said, 
"  My  son,  excuse  me  for  interrupting  you,  for  the  fam- 
ily are  all  alarmed  about  you  ;  are  you  not  willing  to 
go  with  me  to  the  house?  And  let  me  ask  you,  have 
you  found  the  Saviour?"  His  reply  was,  "  All  things 
seem  changed  ;  my  distress  is  all  gone,  and  every 
thing  seems  to  be  covered  with  a  glory  which  I  never 
before  beheld."  His  father  wept  for  joy,  althoughhe 
was  not  then  a  professor  Ijimself,  but  soon  after  hope- 
fully gave  his  heart  to  Christ.  That  father,  weeping, 
led  his  emaciated  and  enfeebled  son  home.     But  the 


LITTLE  JOHNNY  AND  HIS  FATHER.        219 

scene  of  joy  in  that  house  I  will  pass  over  in  silence, 
for  pen  cannot  describe  it.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  on 
the  iirst  Sabbath  of  the  following  January,  he  was 
received  into  the  church.  He  afterwards  became  a 
minister  of  the  gospel,  and  with  what  success  God 
blessed  his  labors  the  last  great  day  will  reveal.  In 
his  pastoral  work  he  forgot  not  the  value  of  religious 
tracts,  and  to  this  auxiliary  he  attributed  much  of  his 
success  in  winning  souls  to  Clirist.  B. 


LITTLE  JOHNNY  AND  HIS  FATHER. 

Some  years  ago,  I  became  acquainted  with  a  fam- 
ily consisting  of  the  father,  mother,  and  two  dear  chil- 
dren. The  mother  was  a  kind-hearted  woman.  She 
had  been  from  early  years  the  subject  of  conviction, 
and  now  for  some  time  a  consistent  Christian.  But 
the  father,  from  his  youth  up,  had  been  daring  and 
wicked.  Why  did  such  a  woman  marry  such  a  man? 
Because,  as  she  said,  she  loved  him,  and  followed  her 
feelings  rather  than  her  judgment  and  the  book  of 
God.  1  Cor.  7  :  39.  He  was  a  member  of  an  Odd 
Fellows'  lodge,  and  was  there  very  frequently  until 
midnight,  and  was  very  popular  as  a  good  singer  at 
"  free  and  easy  "  clubs.     This  lasted  for  some  years. 

Johnny  was  four  years  old,  and  his  mother  per- 
mitted him  to  go  to  Sunday-school.  There  you  might 
see  him  Sabbath  after  Sabbath,  sitting  among  the  lit- 
tle ones,  with  an  A  B  C  card  in  his  hand.  There  he 
learned  to  repeat  hymns  and  sing,  and  answer  ques- 
tions put  by  the  teachers.  His  dear  mother  attended 
the-  same  place  of  worship,  and  the  gospel  was  indeed 


220  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

food  to  her  soul.  But  Mr.  P- — ,  the  father,  cared 
for  none  of  these  things;  he  attended  no  place  of 
worship.  He  was  "pretty  constant"  at  "his  lodge," 
and  generally  very  late  at  home,  so  that  he  was  but 
little  society  for  his  wife.  She  acutely  felt  his  inat- 
tention and  unkindness.  However,  she  and  "little 
Johnny"  spent  the  long  winter  evenings  at  home, 
singing,  repeating  hymns,  reading  the  Bible,  and  talk- 
ing about  God  and  heaven. 

It  was  in  vain  for  the  wife  to  remonstrate  with 

Mr.  P .     She  prudently  bore  with  him  as  well  as 

she  could,  and  committed  her  cause  to  God.  She 
thought,  if  she  could  get  him  under  the  sound  of  the 
gospel,  the  Lord  might  change  his  heart,  and  thus 
appear  for  her.  She  spoke  to  him  repeatedly,  but  all 
to  no  purpose.  But  "  Johnny  "  went  to  Sunday-school ; 
he  loved  to  go,  and  would  remain  to  the  public  wor- 
ship afterwards.  The  Sunday-school  was  at  some 
distance,  and  there  was  some  difficulty  in  getting  him 
to  and  from  the  meeting-house  ;  as  he  was  so  young, 
he  could  not  go  alone;  his  mother  did  not  always 
like  to  trust  him  to  the  care  of  other  children,  and  to 
detain  him  at  home  appeared  cruel,  for  he  was  so 
happy  in  his  Sunday-school.  But  "Johnny,"  in  the 
simplicity  of  his  little  heart,  removed  all  this  diffi- 
culty himself.    He  asked  his  father  to  go  with  him  to 

meeting.     Mr.  P ,  though  a  rough  man,  was  very 

fond  of  his  little  son  ;  and  though  he  could  say  no, 
and  that  with  anger,  to  grown  persons,  he  could  not 
deny  the  request  of  his  little  child.  Hence,  after  this 
you  might  see,  up  in  the  gallery,  a  fine  little  boy  with 
rosy  cheeks,  washed  clean  and  neatly  dressed;  and 
close  by  his  side  a  strong,  well-built  man  with  a 


LITTLE  JOHNNY  AND  HIS  FATHER.        221 

broad  forehead,  rather  bald,  listening  with  attention 
to  the  preacher.  It  is  Johnny's  father.  Hencefor- 
ward you  may  see  him  there  as  constantly  as  circum- 
stances will  allow.  He  hears,  believes,  and  is  con- 
verted. He  becomes  a  Sunday-school  teacher.  There 
you  may  frequently  see  liim  teaching  Johnny's  class. 
I  was  at  that  time  a  teacher  in  the  same  school,  and 

have  walked  with  Mr.  P ,  in  turn  with  others,  five 

and  six  miles  to  teach  Sunday-school  at  out-stations. 

I  need  not  say  how  happy  this  change  made  his 
dear  wife.  Of  course,  his  place  at  "free  and  easy" 
clubs  was  abandoned,  and  in  course  of  time  he  volun- 
tarily withdrew  from  the  Odd  Fellows'  fraternity. 
He  lived  some  years  after  this  a  true  Christian,  and 
died  of  consumption,  in  the  faith  and  hope  of  the 
gospel. 

Some  teachers  would  say  it  is  of  no  use  to  bring 
such  young  children  to  Sunday-school :  we  want  chil- 
dren to  teach,  not  to  nurse ;  and  some  Sunday-schools 
would  have  excluded  "JoEnny  "  as  "  under  age."  But 
he  was  not  too  young  to  speak  the  name  of  Jesus,  and 
invite  his  parent  to  the  house  of  God.  Some  teach- 
ers arc  dissatisfied  unless  they  have  one  of  the  higher 
classes.  I  some  time  since  passed  from  the  Sunday- 
school  to  the  ministry ;  but  should  I  return  to  the 
Sunday-school  and  have  my  choice,  I  would  prefer 
"little  Johnny's"  class.  These  dear  little  creatures, 
with  their  simple,  confiding  questions  about  God  and 
heaven,  are  full  of  charms  for  me. 

Teachers  often  need  encouragement.  Here  is 
encouragement  from  God.  This  child  comes  to  the 
Sunday-school  and  loves  it — goes  and  draws  a  man  to 
the  house  of  God  whom  no  one  else  could  bring.     He 


222  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

listens  to  the  gospel,  believes  its  truths,  repents  of  sin, 
and  is  saved.  Out  of  the  mouth  of  babes  and  suck- 
lings Jehovah  has  ordained  strength.     Psa.  8  : 2. 

R.  F. 


"MY  MOTHER'S   PRAYERS." 

When  I  was  quite  a  youth,  the  Rev.  Joel  T.  Bene- 
dict, of  blessed  memory,  related  in  my  hearing  the 
following  narrative. 

A  mother  with  several  children  was  left  a  widow. 
Feeling  her  responsibility  as  a  parent,  she  gave  dili- 
gence to  train  her  household  for  Christ.  That  her 
instructions  might  be  blessed  and  her  children  con- 
verted, she  was  unceasing  in  her  supplications  at  the 
throne  of  mercy.  She  would  arise  at  midniglit,  and 
in  the  chamber  where  her  little  ones  were  sleeping, 
would  kneel  and  pray  for  them  with  wrestling  impor- 
tunity. 

Her  eldest  son  becoming  restless  under  religious 
restraints,  abandoned  his  mother  and  the  home  of  his 
childhood.  He  bent  his  steps  to  a  seaport,  and  en- 
listed as  a  sailor.  He  was  absent  several  years,  made 
a  number  of  voyages,  and  under  the  influence  of 
wicked  companions  became  profligate. 

At  length  he  was  induced  to  visit  the  place  of  Iiis 
nativity.  His  mother,  who  had  heard  nothing  of  him 
from  the  time  of  his  departure,  was  dead,  and  the 
residue  of  her  family  scattered.  Of  her  death  the 
sailor  felt  an  interest  to  learn  some  particulars,  and 
whether  any  members  of  the  family  were  still  living, 
or  remained  in  the  vicinity  of  his  birth.  But  how  was 
he  to  obtain  the  desired  information  ?   "  A  man's  heart 


"MY  MOTHER'S  TRAYERS."  223 

dcviscth  his  way,  but  the  Lor^  directcth  his  steps." 
It  was  a  time  of  religious  revival  in  the  congregation 
where  his  mother  liad  been  accustomed  to  worship. 
He  was  told  of  a  prayer-meeting  in  the  neighborhood ; 
and  knowing  that  his  devout  parent  used  to  attend 
such  meetings,  he  directed  his  course  thither,  thinking 
that  lie  might  there  meet  some  of  her  old-acquaintances. 

When  the  sailor  arrived  at  the  place  of  worship, 
lie  found  the  meeting  in  progress.  He  entered  and 
took  a  seat  in  an  obscure  corner,  intending,  at  the 
close  of  service,  to  ask  for  the  information  he  was 
seeking.  The  assembly  was  one  of  great  stillness  and 
solemnity,  such  as  a  genuine  revival  of  religion  usu- 
ally produces.  The  mariner  would  not  have  been 
dismayed  at  the  thunder  of  the  storm  upon  the  heav- 
ing ocean,  but  he  could  not  brave  the  silent  power  of 
the  prayer-meeting  and  religious  conference.  He 
could  hear  nothing,  save  the  voice  of  one  and  another 
relating  what  God  had  done  for  their  souls,  or  the 
suppressed  sigh  and  stifled  sob,  which  arose  from  dif- 
ferent parts  of  the  congregation.  The  "still  small 
voice  "  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  who  had  conducted  him 
thither,  was  speaking  to  his  conscience.  Unable  to 
quench  the  fire  within,  or  longer  conceal  his  anguish, 
he  exclaimed  vehemently,  '^  J\Iy  mother^ s  prayers  haunt 
me  like  a  ghost." 

Those  who  well  remembered  the  praying  mother, 
and  had  a  slight  recollection  of  the  wayward  boy, 
now  became  deeply  interested  in  the  distressed  man. 
Such  counsel  was  imparted  as  the  circumstances  and 
state  of  his  feelings  seemed  to  demand ;  but  he  writhed 
with  keen  conviction  for  several  weeks.  At  length  he 
found  peace  in  hopeful  reconciliation  to  God  and  faith 


224  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ ;  and  in  due  time  became  an 
exemplary  and  useful  member  of  the  same  church  with 
which  his  mother  had  been  connected. 

Who  can  doubt  the  answer  to  that  mother's 
prayers?  0,  Christian  mother,  cease  not  to  pray 
for  your  children. 

"Itsha'n't  be  said  that  praying  breatli 
Was  ever  spent  in  vain."  M.  t. 


THE  YOUNGEST  SON. 

I  knew  an  aged  man,  a  few  years  since  gone  to 
his  rest,  a  Christian  of  undoubted  piety.  He  was  tall, 
erect,  beautifully  symmetrical  in  his  person,  and  grace- 
fully dignified  in  all  his  movements.  He  was  not 
rich,  nor  highly  educated  ;  he  was  a  plain,  honest  far- 
mer, whose  industry  and  economy  had  brought  to  his 
possession  a  hundred  and  iifty  acres  of  improved  land 
in  Northern  New  York,  and  the  usual  appendages  of 
a  successful  farming  business. 

He  was  the  father  of  three  cherished  sans,  all  of 
whom  had  grown  up  to  manhood.  The  eldest  had 
engaged  in  the  profession  of  the  law.  The  second 
had  married  and  settled  upon  a  small  farm  in  a  neigh- 
boring township.  The  youngest  was  early  designated 
as  heir  to  the  paternal  homestead,  the  supporter  of  his 
parents  in  their  age  and  infirmities,  and  the  solace  of 
their  hearts  as  they  should  descend  the  vale  of  years. 

More  than  usual  attention  and  expenditure  had 
been  bestowed  upon  this  youngest  son,  and  he  had 
been  too  much  indulged.  He  early  showed  a  spirit 
restive  under  restraint  and  intolerant  of  rebuke.  His 
parents  finally  came  to  the  conclusion,  that  James  did 


THE  YOUNGEST  SON.  225 

the  best  to  let  him  have  his  own  way,  and  to  do  what 
they  reasonably  could  to  indulge  him.  But  things 
grew  no  better,  till  it  was  clear  that,  so  far  from 
inclining  to  consult  the  wishes  of  his  parents,  James 
seemed  to  take  a  sincere  pleasure  in  contravening 
their  most  reasonable  requirements,  and  to  exhibit  an 
utter  disregard  of  their  positive  injunctions.  Still,  his 
parents  dearly  loved  and  gratified  him  by  every  means 
in  their  power. 

Before  James  was  twenty-one,  he  had  wasted  hun- 
dreds of  dollars  in  amusements  and  foolish  prodigality. 
At  length  his  arrogance  and  turbulence  increased  to 
an  extent  which  quite  exhausted  both  the  resources 
and  patience  of  his  venerable  father.  The  old  gentle- 
man finally  called  the  attention  of  his  son  to  the  stern 
necessities  of  the  case  ;  reminded  him  of  the  fact  that 
he  was  wasting  rapidly  his  little  fortune ;  that  much 
of  it  had  been  expended  in  extricating  him  from  dif- 
ficulties ;  that  hundreds  of  dollars  had  been  lavished 
upon  his  person,  and  in  gratifying  his  unreasonable 
caprices;  and  that  now  there  must  be  a  reckoning, 
and  this  ruining  account  must  be  closed. 

He  spoke  of  the  love  which  he  had  always  borne 
him  as  the  Benjamin  of  his  heart,  af  the  sacrifices 
which  he  had  cheerfully  incurred,  and  of  what  he 
would  still  be  willing  to  hazard,  if  he  could  see  the 
slightest  indications  of  his  returning  to  duty  and  filial 
propriety ;  and  as  the  model  form  of  the  father  ear- 
nestly inclined  towards  the  erring  boy,  the  silvery 
locks  flowing  gracefully  backward,  and  the  mild  blue 
eye  sparkling  with  the  burning  drops  of  parental 
grief,  in  that  powerful  eloquence  which  is  the  .out- 
bursting  of  parental  goodness  defied  and  provoked  to 
10* 


226  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

desperation,  he  demanded  of  his  son  that  he  should 
remain  at  home,  and  fulfil  the  expectation  of  his  fa- 
ther and  his  mother,  long  and  earnestly  cherished. 

To  this  James  instantly  demurred,  and  declared 
that  he  would  be  forced  into  no  measure,  although 
knowing  it  to  be  reasonable. 

The  old  gentleman  then  composedly  and  firmly 
advanced  towards  the  door,  and  throwing  it  wide 
open,'  said,  "  My  son,  there  is  the  door ;  and  there, 
before  you,  is  the  wide  world.  Go,  and  forget  that 
you  have  a  father  ;  and  I,  if  possible,  will  forget  that 
I  have  a  son  so  wayward  and  estranged.  Go,  and 
never  again  return  to  afflict  my  soul  with  a  recollec- 
tion of  the  past!" 

James  now  saw  that  he  was  not  required  to  remain 
at  home,  that  he  was  free  to  go,  and  could  impose  no 
obligation  by  remaining,  and  now  a  change  came  over 
his  spirits.  He  rushed  into  his  father's  arms,  and  for 
the  first  time  dropped  upon  the  paternal  brow  the 
tears  of  filial  penitence,  and  imploringly  asked  that 
he  might  be  permitted  to  remain,  and  to  obey. 

When  God  requires  sinners  to  do  that  which  in 
itself  is  most  agreeable,  they  will  not,  but  perhaps  go 
away  and  do  what  otherwise  they  would  not  do.  But 
when  God  says,  "Depart,"  0  how  bitterly  does  the 
soul  bewail  the  folly  of  resisting  his  reasonable  com- 
mands. D. 


A  CAVILLING   SCEPTIC. 

Mr.  0 was  fifty  years  of  age.     He  rejected 

revealed  religion,  and  yet  had  no  settled  form  or  sys- 
tem of  infidelity.    He  would  sometimes  attend  preach- 


A  CAVILLING  SCEPTIC.  22T 

ing,  but  it  was  to  return  home  to  cavil.  God  in  great 
mercy  entered  his  family,  and  brought  his  eldest 
daughter  into  the  kingdom  of  his  Son.  He  cavilled 
on,  saying,  "It  is  all  excitement  and  delusion." 

Soon  the  Lord  appeared  again  in  his  household, 
and  his  wife  and  second  daughter  found  peace  in  be- 
lieving and  joy  in  the  Holy  Ghost.  And  yet  he  was 
unmoved.  He  confessed  not  that  religion  was  true, 
or  the  Bible  from  God.  Months  passed.  The  wife 
and  one  daughter  being  members  of  my  church,  I 
found  that  a  family  altar  was  kept  up,  and  the  Bible 
read  in  presence  of  the  sceptical  husband  and  father. 
He  suffered  it,  but  believed  not. 

I  had  a  long  and  faithful  conversation  with  him, 
but  his  mind  was  dark.  I  gave  him  "  Nelson  on  Infi- 
delity," and  he  said  he  was  willing  to  read  it.  I  saw 
him  not  again  for  some  weeks.  I  presented  him  as  a 
subject  of  prayer  in  our  prayer-meeting,  wdiile  he  was 
reading  Nelson.  When  next  I  saw  him,  and  took 
him  by  the  hand,  with  a  smile  he  said,  "  I  hope  I  am  a 
changed  man.  All  things  seem  new  to  me."  Con- 
cerning the  book  he  had  been  reading,  he  said,  "I  had 
not  read  that  work  half  through,  before  I  found  out 
I  Avas  a  fool."  He  added,  "  Religion  is  a  reality,  the 
Bible  is  true,  and  I  trust  I  have  found  a  Saviour." 

As  soon  as  light  broke  in  upon  his  mind,  he  betook 
himself  to  prayer,  seeking  the  Lord  until  he  found  a 
resting-place  for  his  soul.  Christ  and  his  own  won- 
derful deliverance  were  his  theme.  His  heart  and 
eyes  overflowed  as  he  talked  of  the  mercy  of  God  and 
love  of  Christ,  in  snatching  him  from  ruin.  He  bore 
this  testimony  to  his  neighbors  and  friends.  His  life 
was  consistent,  his  end  peace.  l.  s. 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE'. 


A  PRAYING  SON  AND  HIS  FATHER. 

Setli  L was  converted  at  an  early  age.   After 

nearly  a  year,  in  which  he  labored  under  very  deep 
convictions  of  sin,  and  fearful  apprehensions  of  the 
wrath  of  God,  he  was  enabled  with  great  clearness  to 
sec  the  preciousness  and  the  entire  suitableness  of 
Christ's  finished  work ;  and  coming  out  of  darkness 
and  dread  into  the  fullest  confidence  in  the  Saviour, 
he  was  even  at  that  early  period  distinguished  as  one 
"  full  of  the  Holy  Ghost  and  of  faith." 

He  manifested  great  anxiety  for  the  souls  of  his 
friends,  and  especially  for  his  father,  who  was  a  man 
of  uprightness  and  a  high  sense  of  honor,  but  wholly 
destitute  of  piety.  The  son  wept  and  prayed  over 
him,  and  at  length  he  felt  that  it  would  be  sinful  in 
him  to  refrain  any  longer  from  speaking  to  his  parent. 
With  fear  and  trembling  he  introduced  the  subject  to 
his  father  one  day  when  they  were  alone  in  the  fields. 

"  Seth,"  replied  the  father,  "  I  do  not  feel  any  need 

of  what  you  urge  upon  me.    Look  at and ; 

they  have  got  religion,  as  they  call  it ;  but  what  good 
has  their  religion  done  them?  I  do  not  feel  tliat  I 
have  ever  done  any  thing  to  merit  the  wrath  of  my 
Maker.  I  believe,  my  son,  that  you  are  sincere,  and 
I  shall  place  no  obstacles  in  your  way  ;  but  you  must 
not  again  introduce  this  subject  to  me ;  it  is  not 
pleasant." 

The  son  left  his  father  in  the  deepest  grief,  and 
retiring  to  his  closet,  he  poured  out  his  sorrows  before 
God,  and  set  apart  a  portion  of  every  day  for  special 
prayer  for  his  father's  conversion. 


A  WAYWARD  SON.  229 

Seth  was,  some  years  after,  married  to  a  pious 
young  woman.  Time  rolled  on,  his  children  were 
growing  up  to  the  estate  of  men  and  women,  and  one 
after  another  of  them  were  converted,  and  sat  down 
with  him  at  the  communion-table.  But  his  father, 
who  was  now  a  man  of  nearly  fourscore  years,  was 
still  without  God  and  without  hope.  Every  day,  for 
thirty  years,  his  son  had  besought  the  Lord,  and  often 
with  tears,  on  his  behalf. 

One  day  they  were  walking  together,  when  the 
old  man  thus  addressed  his  son :  "  Seth,  you  remem- 
ber speaking  to  me  about  the  interests  of  my  soul,  a 
great  many  years  ago.  Well,  I  want  to  tell  you  that 
my  sentiments  are  very  greatly  changed  since  then. 
I  feel  that  I  am  a  great  sinner." 

The  father  was  brought  to  enjoy  peace  in  believ- 
ing, and  lived  to  "  bring  forth  fruit  in  old  age."  God 
is  the  answerer  of  prayer.  d.  i. 


A    WAYWARD    SON. 

A  pious  lady  had  long  and  faithfully  endeavored 
to  lead  her  children  in  the  ways  of  righteousness  ;  but 
her  eldest  son  gave  not  heed  to  her  counsels,  and  with 
grief  she  saw  him  select  a  companion  for  life  who 
feared  not  God,  and  establish  himself  in  his  own  home 
without  a  family  altar.  But  she  followed  him  with 
her  prayers  and  entreaties,  and  he  loved  and  valued 
her,  as  his  daily  visits  testified.  On  one  occasion,  as 
he  stepped  in,  the  title  of  a  tract  which  lay  upon  his 
mother's  table  attracted  his  attention.     He  wished  he 


230  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

could  read  it.  But  no,  he  would  not  on  any  account 
be  seen  taking  it  up.  Still,  he  could  not  leave  it ;  for 
the  Holy  Spirit  had  made  use  of  the  title  of  that  tract 
to  arouse  him  from  the  deep  lethargy  in  which  he  had 
so  long  been  sunk.  At  last  he  covered  the  tract  with 
his  hat,  drew  it  unperceived  from  the  table,  and  left 
the  house. 

But  what  should  he  then  do  ?  He  could  not  well 
read  it  at  home  without  the  knowledge  of  his  wife, 
and  he  was  ashamed  to  read  a  tract  in  her  presence. 
As  his  only  resort,  he  betook  himself  to  the  barn, 
ascended  the  hayloft,  and  there  devoured  its  pages. 
Deep  convictions  of  his  sinfulness  followed  its  perusal, 
and  he  was  led  by  its  teachings  to  accept  of  offered 
mercy  through  a  Saviour's  merits.  The  mother  now 
rejoiced  over  her  son  who  "  was  lost,  and  is  found  ;" 
and  frequently  had  the  happiness  of  uniting  with  him 
around  his  own  family  altar  in  thankful  praise  to 
their  common  Redeemer,  and  in  supplications  for  his 
blessing  on  that  Society  which  scatters  so  bounteously 
the  leaves  of  salvation  through  the  land.  Anna. 


A    YOUNGEST    SON    AND    HIS  MOTHER. 

We  were  delayed  in  our  journey,  and  Saturday 
evening  came  upon  us.  As  Providence  ordered,  we 
were  welcomed  by  a  pious  father  and  mother,  whose 
children  had  all  left  them  and  settled  in  the  world, 
except  their  youngest  son,  aged  nineteen,  who  remained 
as  the  staff  of  their  old  age,  and  for  whose  salvation 
the  mother  continually  offered  her  agonizing  prayer. 


A   YOUNGEST   SON  AND  HIS  MOTHER.       231 

He  knew  his  duty,  but  urged  that  he  should  have  a 
more  "  coriTenient  season." 

In  family  prayer  his  case  was  laid  at  the  footstool 
of  sovereign  mercy;  In  the  morning,  when  leaving 
for  public  worship,  I  felt  an  inexpressible  desire  to 
give  the  young  man  a  tract  from  a  basket  with  which 
I  was  supplied-;  and  the  first  that  appeared  was  the 
two-leaved  tract,  "Don't  put  it  off."  He  read  aloud 
the  title,  and  was  evidently  moved.  An  arrow  had 
pierced  through  "  the  joints  of  the  harness ;"  and  as 
he  afterwards  said,  his  old  refuge  from  that  moment 
failed  him.  He  attended  meeting,  and  returned  to 
peruse  the  tract,  every  word  of  which  went  to  his 
soul.  With  new  interest  he  looked  into  his,  Bible, 
in  which  he  laid  the  precious  leaf  which  had  proved 
to  him  such  a  messenger  of  mercy,  requesting  that  it 
might  ah\^ays  remain  there.  Great  was  his  agony 
lest  he  had  "put  it  off"  too  long ;  but  a  reperusal  of 
the  tract  made  him  urge  his  plea  the  stronger,  and 
while  reading  those  encouraging  words,  "him  that 
cometh  to  me  I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out,"  light  from 
on  high  broke  upon  his  mind.  His  mother  felt  that 
indeed  salvation  had  come  to  her  house,  that  her  son 
who  was  dead  now  began  to  live.  He  gave  the  most 
decided  evidence  that  he  was  born  of  the  Spirit. 
"Don't  put  it  off,"  was  his  faithful  admonition  to 
those  who  were  without  Christ.  When  I  some  time 
afterwards  called  on  the  family,  I  found  the  weeping 
mother  bereaved  of  her  son.  She  showed  me  the 
tract,  and  blessed  God  that  our  visit  had  been  instru- 
mental in  bringing  her  child  to  a  saving  knowledge 
of  Christ.  M.  p.  G. 


232  SKETCHES  PROM  LIFE. 

A    SCEPTICAL    FATHER. 

A  work  of  divine  grace  in  H county,  Va.,  in 

1850,  was  characterized  by  deep  solemnity  in  the  pub- 
lic assembly,  and  by  an  unusual  spirit  of  prayer.  A 
daily  morning  concert  was  held  at  six  o'clock,  and 
many  who  were  made  subjects  of  special  prayer  at 
these  seasons,  found  Christ  to  be  precious. 

Among  these  was  a  young  lady  at  a  boarding- 
school,  who,  having  experienced  a  change  of  heart, 
became  much  concerned  for  the  salvation  of  her  aged 
father,  who  lived  about  twenty  miles  distant.  She 
endeavored  to  send  for  him  by  a  special  messenger, 
but  did  not  succeed  in  procuring  one.  She  then  ad- 
dressed him  by  letter,  informing  him  what  "  the  Lord 
had  done  for  her  soul,"  and  urging  him  to  come  up  to 
the  meetings ;  but  fearing  that  such  a  communication 
might  offend  the  sceptical  mind  of  her  father,  she  did 
not  send  it.  There  was  one  resort,  to  her  covenant 
God  and  Redeemer.  She  not  only  offered  her  fervent 
petitions,  but  went  from  one  Chriatian  to  another,  and 
engaged  them  to  pray  for  her  father  at  the  six  o'clock 
concert.  This  was  on  Saturday.  On  the  morrow, 
many  hearts  unitedly  cried  to  God,  and  through  that 
holy  day  unceasing  prayer  ascended  to  the  mercy- 
seat  in  his  behalf.  It  was  a  Sabbath  full  of  blessings 
to  that  people,  and  our  young  friend  evidently  felt, 
in  common  with  the  people  of  God,  that  the  place 
was  a  Bethel,  one  of  the  heavenly  places  in  Christ 
Jesus. 

On  Monday  morning,  we  were  again  convened  in 
the  sanctuary  ;  and  just  as  the  minister  announced  his 
text,  "  And  yet  there  is  room,"  an  aged  man,  a  stran- 


A  SCEPTICAL  FATHER.  233 

ger,  entered  the  church  and  got  the  only  vacant  seat, 
near  tlie  door,  the  house  being  crowded.  He  gave 
unbroken  attention  to  the  discourse,  and  was  much 
moved ;  at  times  the  unbidden  tear  ran  down  his 
cheeks.     At  the  conclusion  of  the  service  some  one 

remarked,  "There  is  Mr.  ,  for  whom  we  have 

been  praying."  I  looked  in  the  direction  indicated, 
and  behold,  it  was  the  stranger  just  alluded  to. 

I  made  my  way  towards  him,  but  before  I  could 
reach  him  he  was  with  his  daughter.  There  she  sat, 
smiling  and  weeping  for  joy  ;  and  yet,  like  the  incred- 
ulous disciples  when  they  heard  that  "  Peter  stood  at 
the  gate,"  she  could  scarcely  believe  that  she  saw  and 
heard  her  own  father,  while  he  stood  over  her,  saying 
to  her,  "My  child,  I  have  been  an  unfaithful,  wicked 
father  to  you ;  I  have  taught  you  both  by  precept  and 
example  to  neglect  religion,  and  live  for  the  present 
world ;  and  now  I  see  the  folly,  the  guilt,  and  the 
peril  of  it,  and  have  come  here  to-day  to  advise  you 
to  seek  true  religion  as  your  portion  for  this  world 
and  the  next." 

"  My  father,"  said  she,  "  that  portion  I  hope  I  have 
found  in  Jesus,  and  if  you  will  be  a  Christian  too,  dear, 
father,  my  cup  of  happiness  will  overflow." 

"  I  am  too  great  a  sinner,"  he  replied ;  "  but  you 
are  young,  you  can  be  a  Christian,  and  I  rejoice  in  it." 

"My  father,"  said  she,  "you  can  be  a  Christian 
too,  the  precious  blood  of  Jesus  'cleanses  from  all 
sin.'" 

The  father  had  been  a  sceptic,  and  had  lived  in  the 
neglect  of  the  public  and  private  means  of  grace  until 
the  last  Sabbath  morning,  when,  from  a  motive  un- 
known to  himself,  he  went  to  church,  distant 


234  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

about  ten  miles,  where  there  was  only  occasional 
preaching,  and  not  knowing  certainly  that  there  was 
service  there  that  day.  But  the  Lord  directed  his 
steps ;  for  then  and  there  he  heard  a  most  faithful 

sermon  from  the  late  Rev.  S.  T ,  who  was  on  a 

visit  to  that  church.  He  returned  to  his  home  deeply 
impressed.  "The  multitude  of  his  thoughts  troubled 
him."  He  found  no  rest  by  day,  and  sleep  forsook 
his  eyelids.  In  the  Bible  of  his  deceased  wife  he 
read,  to  his  own  conviction  and  condemnation.  And 
yet  he  read,  and  thought,  and  paced  his  chamber,  and 
read,  and  thought  again,  the  livelong  night,  until  the 
burden  of  his  sins  brought  the  proud,  stout-hearted 
sceptic  to  his  knees.  He  then  thought  of  his  daugh- 
ter, whose  spiritual  interests  he  had  neglected,  and 
he  resolved  to  visit  her  in  the  morning.  He  accord- 
ingly rode  to  the  school,  a  distance  of  nearly  twenty 
miles ;  and  there  learning  that  the  family  were  at 
church,  he  hastened  on  and  got  there  just  as  the 
preacher  was  announcing  his  text. 

Having  heard  his  own  statement  of  God's  dealings 
with  him,  we  were  constrained  to  exclaim,  "Surely 
our  Lord  is  the  God  who  heareth  prayer  ;"  and  when 
we  told  him  of  the  united  prayer  that  had  gone  up  to 
God  in  his  behalf,  he  was  much  moved.  He  went 
home  that  night,  saying,  "  There  is  no  place  so  solemn 
as  my  own  chamber  ;"  and  many  people  of  God  on  that 
night  sent  up  their  prayers  in  his  behalf,  to  Him  who 
is  "  exalted  a  Prince  and  a  Saviour,"  to  "  give  repent- 
ance and  remission  of  sins." 

On  the  morrow,  he  returned  again  to  the  church, 
we  trust,  a  changed  man,  rejoicing  in  our  redeeming 
God  and  Saviour ;  and  we  all  had  great  comfort,  and 


AN   ELDER  AND  HIS  DAUGHTER.  235 

rejoiced  with  him  iu  the  love  of  Chrirft  shed  abroad 
ill  our  hearts. 

"  Then  let  us  earnest  cry, 
And  never  faint  in  prayer."  J.  D.  M. 


AN    ELDER   AND    HIS   DAUGHTER. 

In  one  of  the  counties  of  Western  Virginia,  there 
lived  a  man  who  for  many  years  had  been  an  officer 
of  the  church,  and  whose  piety  no  one  doubted.  While 
active  and  earnest  in  most  religious  duties,  one  thing 
was  wanting — he  had  no  family  altar.  Years  had 
passed  without  it,  till  God  in  mercy  visited  that  cir- 
cle. The  heart  of  the  elder  was  gladdened  by  seeing 
one  of  his  daughters  embrace  the  Saviour.  This  babe 
in  Christ  felt  that  there  was  one  thing  Avanting  to  her 
growth  in  piety — she  needed  the  blessings  that  distil 
on  those  that  gather  around  the  altar  of  prayer.  She 
felt  too  diffident  to  introduce  the  subject  to  her  father, 
who  had  grown  grey  in  the  service  of  the  Lord  ;  but 
piety  prompted  an  expedient.  She  had  obtained  from 
a  colporteur  the  tract  "  Do  you  Pray  in  your  Family?" 
and  one  evening  as  the  family  had  gathered  around 
the  fireside,  she  presented  it  to  her  father,  and  simply 
asked  him  to  read  it.  He  took  it  and  read  it  with 
fixed  attention.  Every  word'  was  an  arrow  that 
reached  his  heart.  He  finished  the  tract,  paused, 
remained  in  thought  a  moment,  and  looking  at  his 
daughter,  burst  into  tears  and  said,  "  Daughter,  bring 
me  the  Bible.  I  have  neglected  my  duty  too  long; 
henceforth  I  will  pray  in  my  family."  He  kept  his 
resolution,  and  every  morning  and  evening  witnessed 


236  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

a  group  of  worshippers  gathering  to  the  daily  sacri. 
fice.  From  that  day  a  new  and  brighter  light  shone 
into  that  dwellino;.  D.  b.  e. 


AN    ONLY   DAUGHTER. 

A  fond  and  affectionate  only  daughter  in  a  favored 
part  of  our  country,  having  her  heart  touched  by  the 
cries  of  the  heathen,  and  longing  to  be  at  work  on 
missionary  ground,  awaited  only  the  consent  of  her 
parents  to  answer  the  call  of  a  missionary  board. 
She  had  been  "the  pet  lamb"  of  the  flock,  nurtured 
by  the  tenderest  care,  and  cherished  by  her  parents  as 
their  constant  comfort  and  solace — the  very  sunlight 
of  their  dwelling,  and  the  expected  prop  of  their  de- 
clining years.  But  they  had  given  her  to  God,  and 
were  resolved  that  no  selfish  considerations  should 
mingle  with  his  claims  when  it  became  necessary  to 
decide  the  question.  They  made  the  subject  one  of 
prayerful  reflection,  made  themselves  acquainted  with 
the  various  missionary  stations  ;  and  when  the  time 
approached  that  the  decision  must  be  made,  they  de- 
termined to  resign  her  cheerfully,  provided  she  should 
not  be  destined  to  any  part  of  Africa :  they  could  not 
feel  it  a  duty  to  expose  so  frail  and  precious  a  treas- 
ure to  the  dangers  and"hardships  Avhich  she  must  there 
encounter.  Tlie  dreaded  day  arrived.  The  individ- 
ual who  was  to  come  for  .the  decision  was  true  to  the 
appointment.  As  these  parents  entered  the  room,  one 
said  to  the  other,  "  We  must  be  firm ;  if  she  is  to  be 
sent  to  Africa,  we  cannot  consent,"  During  the  inter- 
view, the  necessities  and  wants  of  diflerent  missions 


THE  ONLY  SON.  237 

were  discussed,  and  near  its  close  a  remark  was  ven- 
tured upon  the  preference  wliicli  might  be  given  to 
that  of  South  Africa.  The  consent  of  the  parents  was 
given  to  the  departure  of  their  daughter  for  that  field ; 
and  the  messenger  was  stepping  into  the  stage,  Avhen 
the  mother  exclaimed,  "We  have  not  once  thought  of 
the  conditions.  The  Lord  reigns.  Africa  is  no  doubt 
the  very  ^pot  where  he  requires  her  services."  In  a 
few  months  she  was  in  that  barbarous  region,  becom- 
ing familiar  with  the  language,  having  a  cluster  of 
children  gathered  around  her  eager  for  instruction, 
and  rewarding  her  toils  by  their  progress  in  civiliza- 
tion and  morality.  Her  letters  bespoke  a  most  cheer- 
ful spirit,  and  her  parents  were  reconciled  to  their 
solitude  by  her  oft-repeated  assurances  that  she  was 
never  happier  in  her  life,  because  never  where  she 
could  do  so  much  "'ood.  M, 


THE   ONLY   SON. 

Soon  after  the  Rev.  Pliny  Fisk  and  the  Rev.  Levi 
Parsons  left  their  mountain  homes  in  Western  Massa- 
chusetts, near  the  close  of  1819,  as  the  first  American 
missionaries  to  Palestij^,  their  young  friend  Jonas 
King,  from  the  same  neighborhood,  was  elected  pro- 
fessor in  Amherst  college,  and  proceeded  to  Paris  to 
pursue  the  study  of  Arabic  with  the  celebrated  De 
Sacy.  He  there  became  familiar  with  an  American 
gentleman,  then  at  the  head  of  one  of  the  first  com- 
mercial houses  in  Paris,  to  whose  care  his  correspond- 
ence was  addressed. 

In  February,  1822,  the  lamented  Parsons  died,  and 


238  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

the  Rev.  Mr.  Fisk  without  delay  addressed  a  letter  to 
Mr.  King,  requesting  that  he  would  meet  him  at 
Malta,  and  in  the  place  of  Parsons,  accompany  him 
as  a  missionary  to  Palestine ;  and  fearing  delay  by 
waiting  the  action  of  the  American  Board  of  Mis- 
sions, he  in  the  same  enclosure  requested  Mr.  King's 
mercantile  friend  not  only  to  second  his  invitation, 
but  if  possible  to  raise  the  sum  of  $1,500,  requisite  for 
his  support  for  three  years. 

Mr.  King,  on  receiving  the  letter  in  the  mer- 
chant's counting-room,  exclaimed,  "This  is  from  my 
friend  Fisk ;  I  beg  leave  to  retire  to  your  private 
office  and  read  it."  Oppressed  with  the  weight  of 
the  proposition  it  contained,  he  spent  an  hour  in 
prayer  for  divine  direction  ;  and  hoping  to  gain  fur- 
ther light  as  to  the  path  of  duty  from  the  indications 
of  Providence,  souglit  the  merchant's  advice.  He 
returned  to  the  counting-room,  and  asked  with  deep 
solicitude,  "  What  shall  I  do  ?"  Said  his  friend,  "  Go." 
"But,"  said  he,  "what  will  become  of  my  aged  and 
infirm  parents  in  America?"  "I  will  be  a  son  to  them 
in  your  stead,"  replied  his  friend.  "Then,"  said  Mr. 
King,  "I  go  up  to  Jerusalem,  'not  knowing  the  things 
that  shall  befall  me  there.'" 

"Now,"  said  the  mcrchan^  "sit  down  at  this  desk, 
and  write  to  my  friends  Thomas  Waddington  of  St. 
Remey,  France ;  Louis  Mertcns  of  Brussels ;  Claude 
Cromlin  of  Amsterdam,  and  John  Venning  of  St. 
Petersburgh :  state  to  them  the  circumstances,  and 
that  you  are  willing  to  go  ;  tell  them  I  will  give  one- 
fifth  of  the  $1,500,  and  leave  it  to  their  decision 
whether  they  will  join  me  in  filling  up  the  amount." 
By  the  return  of  the  mails  it  appeared  that  God  had 


THE  ONLY  SON.  239 

put  it  into  the  hearts  of  these  gentlemen  cheerfully  to 
respond  to  the  appeal  by  enclosing  each  $300,  making 
the  sum  required  ;  and  Mr.  King  lost  no  time  in  pre- 
paring for  his  departure. 

A  few  months  previous  to  this,  Mr.  King  had 
established  the  monthly  concert  of  prayer  in  his  own 
hired  upper  chamber  in  Paris.  At  the  first  and  second 
meetings  only  three  were  present ;  at  the  third,  the 
number  was  increased  to  ten  ;  at  the  fourth,  to  thirty ; 
and  soon  after  his  departure  it  rose  to  three  hundred, 
and  this  concert  was  continued  with  interest  in  that 
city.  A  large  concourse  assembled  in  the  church  of 
the  Oratoire  to  listen  to  Mr.  King's  farewell  address, 
and  join  in  commending  him  to  the  God  of  all  grace  ; 
and  he  was  cheered  in  a  similar  manner,  on  his  way, 
by  Christian  assemblies  at  Lyons,  Nismes,  Montpelier, 
and  Marseilles,  where  he  embarked  for  Malta,  whence 
he  proceeded  with  Mr.  Fisk  to  Jerusalem ;  and  be- 
came the  well-known,  persecuted,  but  laborious  and 
successful  missionary  at  Athens. 

His  friend  the  merchant,  from  time  to  time,  wrote 
to  the  solitary  parents,  enclosing  some  tokens  of 
regard  "  from  their  afiectionate  son :"  the  next  year 
ho  returned  to  America ;  and  early  in  the  spring  of 
1824  he  was  at  Northampton,  about  twenty-five  miles 
from  the  parents,  meditating  a  visit  to  their  humble 
abode.  He  applied  to  the  landlord,  who  furnished 
him  a  wagon,  with  his  little  son  for  a  driver ;  and 
freighted  with  a  bag  of  groceries  which  extended  the 
whole  length  of  the .  wagon,  they  set  off  early  in  the 
morning ;  and  after  encountering  snow-drifts  and 
other  obstacles  by  the  way,  arrived  at  the  cottage 
about  2  p.  M. 


210  SKETCHES  FROM   LIFE. 

Leaving  the  lad  with  the  wagon  in  the  street,  the 
gentleman  knocked,  saying  as  he  entered,  "  It  is  a 
chill,  uncomfortable  day,  friends ;  would  you  be  so 
kind  as  to  allow  a  stranger  to  warm  himself  a  little 
by  your  fire?"  He  was  welcomed  and  seated  between 
the  aged  couple,  in  whom  he  distinctly  recognized  the 
features  of  Jonas,  and  who  in  their  turn  fixed  on  him 
a  scrutinizing  eye.  After  a  short  pause  he  said  delib- 
erately, 

"I  once  had  a  friend,  who  said  to  me,  'What  shall 
I  do  ?'  Said  I,  '  Go.'  '  But  what,'  said  he,  '  will  be- 
come of  my  aged  and  infirm  parents  in  America?'  I 
replied,  'I  will  be  a  son  to  them  in  your  stead.' 
'Then,'  said  he,  'I  go  up  to  Jerusalem,  'not  knowing 
the  things  that  shall  befall  me  there.'  " 

Instantly  the  aged  couple  sprang  to  him,  exclaim- 
ing, "This  is  Mr.  W — — ,"  and  almost  overwhelmed 
him  with  their  tears  and  caresses.  "Let  us  pray," 
said  the  father ;  and  they  unburdened  their  hearts  at 
the  throne  of  mercy. 

Scarcely  were  they  again  seated,  when  the  mother 
took  from  the  shelf  a  new  quarto  Bible,  saying,  she 
hoped  her  friend  would  not  blame  her  for  paying  ten 
dollars  for  it  out  of  the  fifty  he  had  sent  her  a  few 
months  previous.  "  Our  old  eyes,"  she  said,  "  could 
not  well  read  the  small  print  of  the  other  Bible.  I 
told  Mr.  King  I  did  not  believe  we  could  make  any 
better  use  of  the  money,  or  should  ever  be  the  poorer 
for  buying  a  Bible  that  we  could  read  ;  and  it  is  a 
great 'comfort  to  us."  Their  friend  expressed  his  ap- 
probation of  the  purchase,  admired  the  Bible,  and 
before  he  returned  it  to  the  shelf,  slipped  into  it 
unperccived  a  ten-dollar  bill ;  which  she  afterwards 


THE  ONLY  SON. 


241 


wrote  him  had  been  found  on  the  floor  when  they 
were  reading  the  Bible,  and  which  she  recognized  as 
from  the  hand  of  God,  having  no  knowledge  by  what 
means  the  exact  amount  expended  had  thus  come 
again  into  their  hands. 

After  a  brief  interchange  of  confidence  and  affec- 
tion, she  said  to  her  esteemed  guest,  "  I  presume,  sir, 
you  have  not  dined,  and  must  be  in  need  of  refresh- 
ment. I  am  ver}-  sorry  we  have  not  a  cup  of  tea  to 
offer  you,  but  we  have  some  nice  ham  and  fresh  eggs, 
which  I  will  immediately  prepare."  Iler  friend  re- 
marked, "There  is  a  bag  in  the  wagon,  containing 
several  articles  from  'your  son,'  and  perhaps  there 
may  be  tea  among  them." 

Skclchcj.  1  1 


242  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

The  bag,  with  not  a  little  effort,  was  transferred 
from  the  wagon  to  the  cottage  floor,  and  the  mother 
addressed  herself  to  the  task  of  taking  out  its  con- 
tents. Among  packages  of  flour,  rice,  loaf  sugar, 
coffee,  chocolate,  raisins,  and  other  articles,  each  of 
which  she  held  up  with  new  expressions  of  delight,  as 
received  from  one  she  so  much  loved,  she  at  length 
came  to  a  package  of  four  pounds  of  hyson  tea,  when 
she  held  it  out  to  the  father  with  streaming  ej^es,  say- 
ing, "Look  hero,  papa,  Jonas  is  the  same  dear  good 
boy  that  he  always  was ;  he  knew  we  were  out  of  tea 
sometimes ;  he  don't  forget  his  poor  father  and  moth- 
er." Then  opening  a  package  of  Turkey  figs,  "  And 
is  this  also,"  said  she,  "  from  Jerusalem  ?  Papa,  was 
there  ever  such  a  son  as  Jonas?"  By  this  time  all 
hearts  were  overflowing.  "Let  us  pray,"  said  the 
father ;  and  the  exploring  of  the  treasures  was  sus- 
pended, while  they  again  united  in  thanksgiving  to 
God. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  little  company  were 
seated  at  a  well-furnished  table,  refreshed  by  the  gifts 
of  the  kind  "  son,"  mingling  their  sympathies,  and 
recounting  all  the  way  in  which  they  had  been  led. 
"While  thus  conversing,  the  merchant  affectionately 
asked,  "  Do  you  never  regret  the  sacrifice  you  have 
made  in  giving  up  your  only  son  to  be  a  missionary  ?" 
The  aged  father  replied, 

" '  God  so  loved  the  world,  that  he  gave  his  only- 
begotten  Son,  that  whosoever  believeth  in  him  should 
not  perish,  but  have  everlasting  life  ;'  and  shall  I  with- 
hold my  only  son  from  obeying  the  command  of  our 
ascended  Saviour,  'Go  ye  into  all  the  world,  and 
preach  the  gospel  to  every  creature?'" 


THE  ONLY  SON.  243 

All  present  were  deeply  affected,  a  tear  standing 
in  the  eye  even  of  tlie  young  driver  :  they  again  bowed 
in  prayer ;  both  the  father  and  the  merchant  led  in 
turn,  commending  the  little  company,  the  absent  son, 
and  a  sin-ruined  world  to  the  God  of  missions. 

The  interview  was  an  hour  bright  with  the  beams 
of  the  Sun  of  righteousness  amid  the  dark  pilgrim- 
age of  life,  an  oasis  in  the  desert,  a  season  never  to 
be  forgotten  by  any  one  of  the  four  persons  who  thus 
met  for  the  first  and  the  last  time  on  earth. 

That  young  driver,  as  he  afterwards  distinctly 
stated,  here  first  had  his  mind  impressed  with  the 
sacred ness  of  the  work  of  foreign  missions.  He  gave 
his  heart  to  Christ ;  pursued  a  thorough  course  of 
education ;  went  forth  to  the  heathen,  and  was  no 
other  than  Henry  Lyman,  the  noble  martyr  who  fell, 
by  the  side  of  Munson,  in  1834,  among  the  bloody 
Battas  of  Sumatra. 

The  aged  father,  in  his  will,  bequeathed  to  the 
merchant,  for  the  purchase  of  a  book  in  token  of  his 
love,  the  sum  of  five  dollars,  which  at  his  death  was 
paid  to  the  widow  for  the  old  small-print  Bible,  which 
is  still  possessed  as  a  precious  memento.  The  widow 
has  entered  into  rest ;  and  the  stranger  passing  a 
rural  graveyard  in  South  Hawley^  where  the  scenery 
opens  in  magnificence  and  beauty,  reads  on  the  tomb- 
stone of  the  father  his  reply  just  quoted  to  the  ques- 
tion, whether  he  ever  regretted  the  gift  to  missions  of 
his  only  son.  w.  a.  h. 


244  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 


DOMESTIC  REMINISCENCES. 


BUT   ONE   THING  WANTED. 

"  There  is  but  one  thing  wanted  to  make  us  com- 
fortable." So  said  a  3'oung  wife  to  her  husband  one 
pleasant  spring  morning,  ere  he  went  to  his  daily  toil. 
They  had  been  married  some  months,  and  had  just 
established  themselves  in  one  of  the  many  pleasant 
villages  with  which  New  England  abounds.  Both 
were  full  of  hope,  the  future  opened  before  them  rich 
in  promise.  A  house  had  been  taken  in  a  quiet  un- 
pretending part  of  the  town,  and  for  some  weeks  they 
had  been  occupied  in  planning  and  getting,  and  in 
setting  things  to  rights. 

How  busy  was  that  young  wife  during  all  those 
bright  spring  days.  She  scarcely  noticed  the  rapid 
and  beautiful  changes  which  the  God  of  nature  Avas 
making  all  around  her,  on  the  hill,  in  the  forest,  and 
over  the  broad  meadow  that  swept  down  to  the  river 
side  but  a  little  distance  beyond  their  dwelling.  The 
frosts  had  disappeai'cd,  the  buds  had  swollen,  nay,  the 
green  leaves  had  come  out,  and  the  flowers  had  burst 
forth,  and  the  sweet  warblings  of  birds  floated  by  as 
the  breeze  swept  past  their  open  doors,  but  she  gave 
little  heed  to  them  all.  Was  she  not  a  wife,  with  a 
husband  dearer  to  her  than  herself?  And  they  had 
a  home  too  of  their  own,  and  that  home  should  be 
made  a  sanctuary  for  her  husband,  whither  he  could 
flee  from  the  dust  and  noise  of  the  world  without,  and 


BUT  ONE  THING  WANTED.  245 

find  repose  and  strength  in  the  smiles  and  kind  words 
of  at  least  one  loving  heart.  0  how  many  plans 
were  laid  and  arrangements  made  within  these  quiet 
walls — hardly  quiet  though,  for  there  was  the  hurried 
tread  of  busy  feet,  and  then  two  little  hands,  that 
rather  rebelled  against  the  harsh  ways  to  which  they 
were  often  subjected,  wrought  most  diligently  from 
morning  till  night.  The  bookcase  must  be  placed 
here,  the  bureau  there,  and  those  pretty  engravings 
must  be  hung  yonder  against  the  wall ;  and  now  they 
must  all  be  changed,  to  see  if  another  location  will 
not  produce  a  better  effect,  and  give  more  character 
to  the  room. 

And  now  the  house  is  all  furnished,  and  the  wife  is 
so  happy  at  the  satisfied  and  complaisant  looks  with 
which  her  husband  regards  the  disposition  which  she 
has  made  of  this  piece  of  furniture  and  that.  And 
how  does  her  heart  beat  with  delight  and  run  over  witli 
affection  for  him  as  he  commends  her  taste,  and  speaks 
of  the  place  she  has  in  his  affections ;  how  often  he 
thinks  of  her  when  prosecuting  his  daily  toil,  and  how 
gladly  he  welcomes  the  hours,  that  call  him  to  her 
side.  They  are  so  happy,  so  essential  to  each  other, 
all  ready  to  live.  Not  quite,  however,  for  there  was 
one  room,  after  all,  not  yet  fitted  up.  This  was  the 
parlor,  and  this  is  what  called  forth  the  words  which 
stand  first  in  our  paper  from  the  young  housekeeper. 
Not  many  days  passed  before,  by  the  kindness  of 
friends,  the  parlor  was  finished,  the  carpet  down,  the 
curtains  up,  and  the  sofa  inviting  to  a  lounge.  The 
"  one  thing  to  make  them  comfortable"  was  no  longer 
wanted.  The  parlor,  of  course,  was  not  to  be  used 
every  day ;  so  one  evening,  after  the  last  touch  had 


246  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

been  given  by  those  tasteful  hands,  husband  and  wife 
sat  together  alone,  on  their  sofa,  and  as  they  remem- 
bered the  past  and  looked  hopefully  into  the  future, 
there  was  joy  in  their  hearts  and  exclamations  of  joy 
came  from  their. lips.  And  they  did  not  forget  God 
in  their  happiness ;  the  youthful  pair  acknowledged 
him  that  evening,  and  prayed  for  a  Father's  blessing 
to  attend  them.  Rising  from  their  knees,  the  room 
v/as  darkened  and  left.  But  were  they  comfortable  ? 
We  will  look  upon  them  again. 

Several  weeks  have  elapsed,  and  during  these 
weeks  sad  changes  have  taken  place  in  that  new 
home.  Disease  has  crossed  its  threshold,  and  that 
parlor  is  the  sick-room,  it  has  been  used  for  no  other 
purpose.  We  will  enter  it.  The  shadows  have  dark- 
ened the  earth,  and  the  stars  are  looking  from  the  sky 
as  serenely  as  though  there  was  no  sadness  in  this 
world.  But  there  is  sadness  in  that  parlor,  such  as 
never  entered  it  before.  There  lies  the  young  wife 
struggling  with  pain ;  you  would  scarcely  know  her, 
so  emaciated  and  thin;  the  husband  is  by  her  side. 
Through  what  a  fiery  ordeal  is  he  passing  ;  how 
wildly  does  his  heart  throb.  They  are  expecting  a 
guest,  he  may  come  any  moment ;  they  are  waiting  for 
death. 

The  lips  of  the  sick  one  move,  the  husband  bends 
over  the  couch  to  catch  those  faint  whispers.  How 
much  it  costs  to  control  himself  as  he  hears,  "  My  hus- 
band, we  have  had  a  happy  home,  but  we  shall  have 
a  happier  one  in  heaven  ;  the  Saviour  is  so  precious. 
He  is  with  me.  He  will  be  with  you.  Farewell." 
And  now  death  has  come,  he  has  taken  her  by  the 
liand,  his  icy  breath  has  chilled  her  brow.     "The  sil- 


THE  FIRST   PRAYER  IN  THE  FAMILY.       2i1 

ver  cord  is  loosed,  the  golden  bowl  is  broken,  and  the 
pitcher  lies  shivered  at  the  fountain."  But  he  did 
not  touch  the  sweet  smile  of  resignation  and  joy  which 
tlie  departing  spirit  in  its  passage  to  the  skies  left  on 
that  face ;  this  lingered  there  till  tlie  precious  dust 
was  laid  away  to  its  rest. 

We  really  need  but  one  thing  to  make  us  comfort- 
able— that  one  thing  is  the  religion  of  the  Lord  Jesus. 
Without  this,  we  shall  not  live  well ;  "with  it,  we 
shall  go  safely  through  the  dark  valley.       f.  b.  w. 


THE   FIRST  PRAYER  IN  THE   FAMILY. 

On  the  banks  of  II resided  an  interesting 

family  consisting  of  father  and  mother,  two  sons,  and 
three  daughters.  It  was  a  beautiful  spot ;  the  man- 
sion was  spacious  and  elegant ;  the  grounds  around  it 
were  ample  and  tastefully  laid  out.  Every  thing 
without  was  enchanting,  and  every  thing  within  was 
pleasant. 

The  church  in  that  place  was  visited  with  an  ex- 
tensive work  of  grace,  in  the  progress  of  which  there 
is  reason  to  believe  that  not  less  than  two  hundred 
Avere  added  to  the  Lord.  After  the  work  had  com- 
menced, the  two  eldest  daughters,  who  had  been  hope- 
fully converted  at  a  boarding-school  a  few  years  be- 
fore, were  much  exercised  in  mind  about  their  par- 
ents, especially  their  father.  He  was  a  sedate  man, 
had  been  brought  up  in  New  England,  but  had  given 
his  whole  heart  to  the  world.  Being  in  easy  circum- 
stances, he  had  leisure  for  reflection.  His  daugliters 
were  affected  to  think  tliat  there  was  no  family  altar 


248  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

in  that  house.     They  conversed  and  prayed  together 
on  the  subject. 

One  evening,  as  tlie  family  were  gathered  around 
a  cheerful  fire,  they  expressed  their  feelings,  and  pro- 
posed to  their  father  to  set  up  family  prayer.  He 
was  taken  by  surprise,  but  gave  his  consent.  One  of 
them  immediately  opened  the  large  Bible  and  read  a 
chapter,  the  other  led  in  prayer ;  it  was  a  solemn 
time.  This  was  the  first  prayer  offered  in  the  family. 
The  effect  was  great.  There  was  but  little  sleep  in 
that  house  that  night.  The  father  was  powerfully 
awakened;  for  several  days  he  was  borne  down  with 
a  sense  of  his  sins  ;  he  was  at  length  brought  to  tlie 
feet  of  Jesus.  Salvation  came  to  that  house.  Sev- 
eral of  the  family  were  hopefully  brought  to  a  saving 
knowledge  of  the  truth.  Great  results  were  connect- 
ed with  that  first  prayer  in  the  family.  How  inter- 
esting when  children  become  instruments  of  good  to 
their  parents.  Here  is  encouragement  for  all  to  be 
faithful.  We  are  told  that  "  he  which  converteth  a 
sinner  from  tlie  error  of  his  way,  shall  save  a  soul 
from  death,  and  shall  hide  a  multitude  of  sins." 

T. 


THE   EARNEST   INQUIRY. 

About  thirty  years  ago,  visiting  H ,  in  the 

wilderness  of  North-eastern  Ohio,  in  company  with 
the  Rev.  Luther  Humphrey,  and  examining  candidates 
with  a  view  to  organize  a  church,  I  was  struck  with 
the  narrative  given  of  herself  by  IMrs.  M . 

Living  about  two  miles  from  her  fatlier's  in  Mas- 
sachusetts, she  one  day  took  her  little  son,  five  years 


THE  EARNEST  INQUIRY.  249 

old,  to  visit  her  parents ;  and  a  thunder-storm  arising, 
they  were  obliged  to  tarry  for  the  night. 

"In  the  evening,"  she  said,  "my  father,  as  his  cus- 
tom was,  called  his  family  together,  read  from  his 
large  Bible,  and  commended  all  to  God  in  prayer. 
In  the  morning,  the  family  were  also  assembled,  when 
he  again  read  the  Bible  and  prayed ;  and  I  returned 
home  with  my  little  boy. 

"  I  soon  noticed  that  the  little  fellow  seemed  pen- 
sive and  very  sober,  and  asked  him,  'What  is  the 
matter?'  After  a  little  hesitation,  he  said,  'Why 
doesn't  pa  do  as  grandpa  does?'  I  said  to  him,  '  Poh, 
go  away  to  your  play.'  My  little  boy  looked  disap- 
pointed at  my  answer,  but  ran  to  his  play.  He  was 
gone,  however,  but  a  short  time,  before  he  came  run- 
ning to  me,  and  with  more  earnestness,  again  said, 
'Ma,  ma,  why  doesn't  pa  do  as  grandpa  does?'  I 
frowned  upon  him,  and  bade  him  the  second  time  go 
away  to  his  play.  He  seemed  grieved,  but  went 
away.  Soon  he  came  running  back  to  me  a  third 
time,  and  still  more  earnestly  cried  out,  'Ma,  ma,  why 
doesn't  pa  do  as  grandpa  does?'  To  pacify  him,  I 
asked  him,  'How  does  grandpa  do?'  'Why,  ma,  he 
gets  his  great  Bible  and  reads,  and  then  goes  to  pray- 
er.'   '  Well,  ask  pa  when  he  comes  home.' 

"  My  husband  was  abroad  on  business,  and  was 
not  expected  home  till  evening.  The  boy  seemed  to 
wait  impatiently  for  his  father  to  come.  When  even- 
ing came,  I  said,  '  My  little  boy,  it  is  now  time  for 
you  to  go  to  bed.'  'No,  ma,  I  must  sit  up  till  pa 
comes.'  I  soon  tried  again  to  influence  his  little  mind 
to  think  it  best  for  him  to  go  to  bed.  But  no.  he 
must  sit  up,  contrary  to  his  usage,  and  see  his  pa.  So 
1 1  * 


250  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

he  waited  till  between  eight  and  nine,  when  his  father 
returned.  As  soon  as  he  stepped  his  foot  within  tho 
door,  the  little  boy  ran  to  meet  him,  saying,  '  Pa,  pa, 
why  don't  you  do  as  grandpa  does  ?'  '  Away,  away  ; 
what  are  you  up  at  this  time  of  night  for  ?    Off  to  bed.' 

"  Nothing  more  was  heard  from  our  little  boy  un- 
til morning.  He  lay  in  bed  later  than  usual,  even  till 
after  we  had  breakfasted.  When  he  got  up,  I  placed 
his  breakftist  before  him,  and  drew  him  up  to  the 
table.  But  he  did  not  eat  any  thing.  He  sat  very 
demure,  looking  at  his  food.  I  said,  '  Why  don't  you 
cat  ?'  He  said  nothing,  but  still  sat  almost  motion- 
less. I  soon  asked  him  again,  '  Why  don't  you  eat 
your  breakfast  ?'  *  I  am  waiting  to  ask  a  blessing,  for 
I  don't  see  that  any  body  will,  if  I  don't.' 

"  My  feelings  were  overcome  ;  I  could  contain  my- 
self no  longer,  and  immediately  retired  into  another 
room,  where  I  might  weep  and  pray  undiscovered, 
I  informed  my  husband.  He  was  deeply  affected. 
Without  delay,  we  sought  an  interest  in  the  Redeem- 
er. Our  own  family  altar  was  erected ;  and  soon,  as 
we  hope,  we  found,  to  our  unspeakable  joy.  Him  of 
whom  Moses  in  the  law  and  the  prophets  did  write." 

The  father  was  elected  deacon  of  the  church,  in 
which  office  he  served  acceptably  to  the  day  of  his 
death.  And  the  little  boy,  grown  into  the  meridian 
of  life,  became  an  ornament  to  the  Christian  name 
and  cause.  E.  t.  w. 


A  SCENE   AT   FAMILY  WORSHIP. 

A  group  of  Christian  friends  was  recently  gath- 
ered under  tlie  hos})itable  roof  of  Dr. .     Among 


FAMILY  PRAYER.  251 

them  was  Rev.  Dr.  C ,  the  brilliant  talker,  the 

eloquent  preacher,  and  G.  T ,  whose  life  of  almost 

fourscore  years,  furnishes  a  record  .of  incidents  so 
remarkable  as  to  have  already  afforded  materials  for 
romance  and  history.  As  the  circle  assembled  around 
the  domestic  altar,  the  cheerful  old  Scotchman  re- 
quested Dr.  C to  read  the  third  chapter  of  Prov- 
erbs, remarking  that  he  would  explain  the  reason  of 
his  request  after  prayers. 

"  Last  night,"  he  said,  '•'  was  the  anniversary  of  my 
arrival  in  America,  after  a  twelve  weeks'  voyage  from 
Scotland.  Fifty-seven  years  ago,  this  morning,  I  opened 
my  chest  to  examine  my  luggage,  and  the  first  thing  I 
saw  was  the  Bible  that  my  father  had  packed  care- 
fully on  the  top  of  my  effects.  When  I  looked  into 
the  sacred  volume,  the  first  chapter  that  met  my  eye 
was  the  third  of  Proverbs.  I  read  on,  and  it  seemed 
as  if  my  father's  voice  was  sounding  in  my  ears,  '  My 
son,  forget  not  my  law,'  etc.  The  illusion  lasted  till 
the  chapter  was  nearly  finished.  It  was  my  heavenly 
Father's  voice.  Here,"  said  the  old  man,  as  he  drew 
two  small  black  volumes  from  his  pockets,  "  here  is  the 
old  Bible  that  has  been  my  light  and  comfort  these 
fifty-seven  years."  c. 


FORTY  YEARS'  EXPERIENCE  OF  FAM- 
ILY PRAYER. 

From  the  day  that  myself  and  wife  were  installed 
in  our  own  house  as  a  family,  now  nearly  forty  years 
since,  God  has  had  an  altar  in  our  dwelling,  and  upon 
that  altar  the  morning  and  evening  sacrifice  of  prayer 


252  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

has  been  offered.  Tliis  I  have  ever  considered  as  an 
imperative  duty  and  a  delightful  privilege.  Perhaps 
no  religious  exercise  in  which  a  family  can  engage 
conduces  more  to  its  peace,  its  order,  or  its  happiness. 
Perhaps  the  head  of  a  family  never  appears  so  digni- 
fied or  so  honorable,  as  when  leading  the  devotions 
of  his  household.  Perhaps  no  other  service  exerts  so 
happy  an  influence  on  the  temper,  affection,  and  con- 
duct of  those  to  whom  he  acts  as  a  priest  unto  God. 
Aside  from  the  spiritual  good  to  which  it  directly  and 
powerfully  conduces,  its  bearing  upon  the  temporal 
welfare  of  a  family  should  secure  its  faithful  observ- 
ance. With  these  sentiments  I  was  early  impressed 
by  the  precepts,  but  more  by  the  example  of  my  father, 
who  daily  led  his  family  to  the  throne  of  grace.  And 
I  early  decided,  that  if  ever  I  became  the  head  of  a 
household,  I  would  adopt  a  practice  so  reasonable, 
and  fraught,  as  I  believed,  with  present  and  lasting 
blessings. 

I  was  aware  of  an  objection  often  brought  against 
this  service  by  those  whose  cares  and  business  are 
multiform,  and  thought  it  quite  possible  that,  in  re- 
spect to  myself,  it  might  sometimes  interfere  with  the 
plans  and  purposes  of  the  day.  But  it  has  not  proved 
so.  And  now,  at  the  expiration  of  nearly  forty  years, 
I  can  aver  in  all  truth,  that  we  have  seldom  if  ever 
wanted  time.  Very  seldom,  indeed,  has  any  circum- 
stance or  providence  occurred  to  prevent  our  assem- 
bling morning  and  evening,  "  to  call  upon  the  name  of 
the  Lord."  I  have  known  some  of  ray  neighbors  to 
be  occasionally  a  little  earlier  at  their  business  ;  but 
never  yet  have  I  known  the  instance,  or  ever  thought 
it  existed,  when  my  worldly  interests  suffered  from 


FAMILY  PRAYER.  253 

attending  to  the  duties  of  family  devotion — jxot  one 
instance  in  marly  forty  years.  But  the  beneficial  influ- 
ence has  all  been  the  other  way.  I  do  not  mean  to 
intimate  that  God  has  wrought  miracles  for  us ;  and 
yet  interpositions  have  been  so  unexpected  and  so 
kind,  anticipated  obstacles  so  remarkably  removed, 
difficulties  so  smoothed,  and  our  pathway  so  clearly 
indicated,  that  it  has  seemed  sometimes-little  less  than 
miraculous.  The  reading  of  the  holy  oracles,  its  pre- 
cepts, warnings,  promises,  encouragements,  followed 
by  humble,  fervent,  importunate  prayer,  has  better 
fitted  us  for  the  duties  of  the  day.  I  firmly  believe 
that  the  mind  has  been  less  disturbed  by  the  crosses 
and  vexations  common  to  us  all.  We  have  felt 
stronger  under  the  burdens  of  life,  and  derived  as 
surance  of  the  divine  guidance  and  blessing — remem- 
bering what  God  has  said,  "  Call  upon  me  in  the  day 
of  trouble,  and  I  will  answer  thee ;  and  thou  shalt 
glorify  me."  Thus  prepared,  we  have  in  comparative 
quiet,  passed  on  in  the  journey  of  life  ;  our  anchor 
has  been  cast  on  safe  ground,  and  if  our  bark  has 
sometimes  rocked,  as  storms  will  sometimes  blow  and 
waves  rise,  our  anchor  has  not  dragged,  nor  our  ves- 
sel been  submerged. 

In  the  course  of  years,  sons  and  daughters  were 
born  to  us.  These  events  added  new  incentives  to 
call  upon  God,  and  invested  the  privilege  with  new 
and  increasing  interest.  These  little  dependent  be- 
ings, who  could  sustain  them — who  safely  conduct 
them  through  the  perils  and  infirmities  of  childhood? 
We  felt  that  God  alone  in  his  wise  providence  could 
do  this.  And  as  we  had  the  daily  conviction  that 
they  were  immortal  beings,  and  confided  to  our  care, 


254  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

we  felt  the  need  of  divine  wisdom  and  instruction  to 
aid  us  in  fulfilling  this  most  important  trust.  With 
all  our  watchfulness,  we  well  knew  that  we  should  be 
unable  to  direct  them  safely  over  the  stormy  passage 
of  life.  We  could  not  be  present  with  them  at  all 
times.  Often  we  could  not  know  where  they  were; 
nor  could  we  foresee  the  temptations  and  trials  which 
would  overtake  them.  These  considerations  greatly 
enhanced  the  value  of  prayer. 

In  process  of  time,  these  children  advanced  to 
manhood  and  womanhood.  In  the  natural  order  of 
things,  they  left  us.  Some  of  them  embarked  in  busi- 
ness. Some  were  married,  and  have  had  children 
growing  up  around  them.  Under  these  circumstan- 
ces, we  find  faoiily  prayer  as  great  a  privilege  now  as 
formerly,  perhaps  even  greater.  We  have  more  to 
pray  for,  and  even  greater  solicitude  on  their  account. 
When  our  children  were  young,  and  the  cold  wintry 
storm  howled  around  our  dwelling,  their  mother,  on 
the  setting  in  of  night,  was  able  to  conduct  them  to 
their  little  rooms,  and  see  them  quietly  and  snugly  in 
their  beds  ;  each  one  being  able  to  say,  as  Cowper  so 
beautifully  said  of  his  mother, 

Thy  nightly  visits  to  my  chamber  made, 
That  thou  might  see  me  safe  and  warmly  laid. 

And  now,  as  some  of  them  are  men  of  business 
and  often  travelling  about,  cither  in  the  whirling  car 
or  in  the  tossing  ship,  exposed  to  varied  dangers,  why 
should  we  not  the  more  frequently  and  the  more  fer- 
vently commend  them  to  God?  Our  prayers  have 
indeed  been  laid  up  for  them,  and  we  trust  that  God 
will  be  faithful  to  his  gracious  engagements;  we 
cannot  distrust  liiin.     Every  day  brings  its  desire  to 


FAMILY  PRAYER.  255 

kneel  down  and  -commend  ourselves  and  them  again 
and  again  to  the  God  of  all  our  mercies.  It  is  a  priv- 
ilege which  I  think — yes,  I  dare  aver,  that  I  would 
not  surrender  for  all  the  gold  which  will  ever  be  gath- 
ered from  the  mines  of  California.  What  good  would 
all  that  gold  do  us,  if  at  the  same  time  we  were  ex- 
cluded from  the  privilege  of  calling  upon  our  heav- 
enly Father — if  we  must  forego  his  love  and  commun- 
ion? The  whole  world  would  make  no  amends  for 
such  a  loss. 

Were  I  possessor  of  the  earth, 

Aud  called  the  stars  my  own, 
Without  thy  graces,  and  thj-self, 

I  were  a  wretch  undone. 

In  praying  for  ^blessings  upon  myself  and  family,  I 
have  always  been  guarded  on  one  or  two  points.  I 
have  never  asked  for  great  temporal  prosperity,  nor 
that  we  might  become  rich  in  this  world's  goods. 
He  that  accumulates  riches  increases  responsibility. 
Wealth  is  apt  to  engender  pride ;  it  tends  to  harden 
the  heart.  It  is  better  to  confine  ourselves  to  asking 
for  a  competency.  This  is  desirable.  This  we  may 
seek  for  with  propriety.  Beyond  this  there  is  dan- 
ger. Nor  have  I  sought  an  exemption  from  the  com- 
mon calamities  of  life.  We  do  not  wish  it.  We  never 
so  pray.  Some  trials  are  best.  They  are  needed.  I 
never  yet  knew  an  instance  in  which  mere  prosperity 
ever  brought  an  impenitent  man  to  repentance ;  so  I 
have  seldom  known  the  influx  of  wealth  add  to  the 
spiritual  prosperity  and  elevation  of  the  Christian. 
But  as  to  conformity  to  God,  submission  to  the  divine 
will,  and  growth  in  Christian  grace,  I  know  nothing 
to  forbid  the  largest  desires,  and  the  most  importu- 


256  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

nate  pleading.  For.  such  blessings  I  have  sought, 
such  I  have  expected,  such  I  have  found,  and  1  think 
because  I  have  sought  them. 

I  could  add  much  more  of  the  divine  faithfulness, 
of  temporal  favors,  and  of  spiritual  mercies ;  but  as 
in  reading  a  portion  of  Scripture  prior  to  prayer  1 
have  studied  brevity — and  brevity  as  to  prayer  itself, 
not  however  disregarding  circumstances,  and  espec- 
ially pertinency — so,  in  relating  my  experience,  I  am 
brief.  My  great  object  is  to  commend  the  practice  to 
those  who  are  commencing  the  family  state.  No  ser- 
vice seems  more  dutiful,  no  privilege  seems  greater, 
no  reward  is  more  sure. 

"Were  I  going  to  live  my  life  over  again,  I  would 
begin  as  I  began.  The  very  first  thing  I  would  do, 
would  be  to  erect  an  altar  to  God.  That  I  did.  1 
have  never  for  a  single  moment  regretted  it.  But  one 
thing  in  all  truth  I  can  say  :  if  I  were  to  embark  on  a 
similar  voyage,  I  would  make  one  grand  emendation. 
I  would  study  to  be  more  faithful  in  the  performance 
of  the  duty.  I  would  pray  more  earnestly,  more  sin- 
cerely, more  importunately,  more  confidingly.  And 
now,  for  the  remainder  of  my  pilgrimage,  I  hope  to 
do  all  this ;  so  help  me,  0  God.  G. 


POOR  ZEKE  AND  HIS  PRAYERS. 

In  a  wild,  sequestered  place,  quite  away  from  the 
bounds  of  my  congregation,  there  lived  a  very  wicked 
family — a  father,  mother,  two  brothers,  and  three  sis- 
ters. None  of  them  attended  any  meeting.  One  of 
the  brothers  was  wanting  in  common-sense.    His  name 


POOR  ZEKE  AND  HIS  PRAYERS.     25T 

was  Ezekicl.  As  lie  was  not  supposed  to  have  mind 
cnoui^li  to  be  put  to  any  work,  he  used  to  stroll  away, 
and  be  gone  sometimes  several  days. 

One  day,  as  I  was  preaching  on  tlie  pity  Jesus  has 
for  poor  sinners,  I  observed  "poor  Zcke"  looking  me 
in  the  face,  and  every  time  I  said  Jesus  pitied  poor 
sinners,  the  tears  would  start  from  his  eyes.  As  there 
was  more  than  usual  attention  to  religion,  we  had 
meetings  often ;  and  whether  it  was  a  lecture,  or  a 
prayer-meeting,  or  an  inquiry-meeting,  "poor  Zeke" 
was  sure  to  be  there. 

At  length  I  asked  him  if  he  loved  Jesus,  and  he 
answered,  "  Yes."  "  Why  do  you  love  Jesus  ?"  said 
I.  "  0,  'cause  he  love  poor  wicked  Zeke  so."  "Have 
you  been  wicked  ?"  "  Yes,  I  full,  full  of  wicked." 
"  Do  you  pray  ?"  said  I.  "  0  yes."  "  What  do  you 
say,  when  you  pray  ?"  "  I  say,  0  my  Jesus,  pity  poor 
Zeke.     0  take  all  my  wicked  away." 

After  a  while  he  went  home.  His  appearance  was 
changed.  He  had  lost  his  seeming  vacancy  of  look 
and  thought.  But  he  dare  not  pray  in  the  house,  for 
all  were  full  of  fun  and  noise.  So  he  went  to  the 
barn,  and  there  he  fell  on  his  knees  and  uttered  his 
broken  prayer  to  Him  who  "hath  cliosen  the  weak 
things  of  this  world  to  confound  the  mighty."  His 
brother,  going  into  the  barn,  heard  him  crying  to 
God  so  fervently  that  it  alarmed  him.  He  went  in 
and  told  his  father,  with  an  oath,  that  Zeke  was  in 
the  barn  praying.  At  this,  his  father  ran  to  the  barn 
and  listened,  and  found  the  boy  indeed  at  prayer.  He 
went  in  and  spoke  to  him;  but  he  "cried  so  much  the 
more  a  great  deal."  "  Stop  your  noise,  Zeke,"  said  his 
angry  father ;  but  he  kept  on.     So  they  took  hold  of 


258  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

him  and  got  him  into  the  house,  in  hopes  of  quieting 
him. 

They  asked  him  where  he  liad  been,  and  how  he 
came  to  feel  so.  He  told  them  a  very  rational  story 
about  it.  But  the  more  he  talked,  the  more  his  father 
scolded.  Poor  Zeke  found  he  could  say  no  more,  and 
then  fell  down  on  his  knees  again.  His  father  tried 
to  silence  him  ;  but  his  mother  loved  her  poor  boy, 
and  begged  them  to  let  him  pray. 

When  he  had  arisen  from  prayer,  liis  mother  said, 
"It  is  high  time  we  all  prayed.  Ezekiel,  will  you 
pray  for  your  mother  ?"  "  0  yes,"  he  said ;  and  down 
again  he  went  upon  his  knees,  and  his  mother  with 
him.  Not  many  days  after,  she  too  was  full  of  joy  at 
the  thought  of  Jesus'  dying  pity.  By  this  time,  tlie 
brother  who  first  heard  him  pray  was  sobbing  out, 
"  What  shall  I  do  ?"  Poor  Zeke  said,  "  Go  to  Jesus." 
Then  he  and  his  mother  prayed  for  him,  and  he  too 
found  his  distress  giving  way  for  unspeakable  joy. 
Then  there  were  three  to  pray  for  a  hardened  hus- 
band and  an  unfeeling  father.  He  fought  and  ridi- 
culed until  their  three  daughters  Avere  added  to  the 
Lord.  This  made  five  who  had  now  joined  Ezekiel 
and  embraced  his  religion. 

At  last  his  father  saw  liimsclf  alone.  His  heart 
broke  ;  he  wept  like  a  child.  He  went  to  his  son  and 
confessed  his  sin  in  opposing  him,  and  asked  him  to 
pray  for  him.  His  burden  was  removed ;  he  rejoiced 
in  God.  He  erected  the  family  altar,  and  it  was  a  sol- 
emn sight  to  see  seven  persons  who  had  a  few  weeks 
before  been  profane  and  careless,  now  all  brought 
over  from  the  service  of  Satan  to  the  service  of  the 
Lord.    And  it  was  a  joyful  day  when  poor  Zeke,  with 


A  DYING  PATRIARCH.  259 

his  father  and  mother,  his  brother  and  sisters,  united 
with  God's  people,  and  came  together  to  the  com- 
munion. 

Reflect,  that  if  a  poor,  ignorant,  and  foolish  cliild, 
under  God,  can  do  so  much  good,  what  a  solemn  ac- 
count must  they  have  to  render  at  last,  who,  having 
talent,  yet  often  shrink  at  the  cross,  and  let  sinners 
perish.  A  Pastor. 


A  DYING  PATRIARCH. 

In  the  spring  of  1828, 1  was  invited  to  take  the  pas- 
toral charge  of  the  interesting  Presbyterian  church  of 

W ,  in  Middle  Georgia.     That  church  had  been 

left  destitute  by  the  early  death  of  their  devoted 
young  pastor,  whose  premature  removal  from  among 
us  caused  many  to  weep  bitterly.  There  were  a  good- 
ly number  of  praying  people  in  that  little  church  ;  and 
when  I  rejected  other  calls  and  accepted  theirs,  I  felt 
as  if  I  was  going  where  the  prayers  of  the  pious  had 
drawn  me. 

Soon  after  I  commenced  my  labors,  I  was  struck 
with  the  venerable,  mild,  almost  heavenly  appearance 
of  one  of  the  elders.  Whenever  he  entered  the  church 
the  preacher  could  not  but  be  cheered  by  the  thought, 
If  that  good  man  prays  for  me,  I  shall  have  divine  aid 
in  delivering  God's  message  to  dying  men. 

The  head  of  this  elder  was  silvered  over  with 
gray  hairs ;  he  was  seventy-two  years  old.  He  had 
been  long  walking  in  the  path  of  the  heaven-bound 
pilgrim.  Such  had  been  the  purity  of  his  life,  the 
amiableness  of  his  spirit,  and  the  ardor  and  consist- 
ency of  his  piety,  that  no  one  could  resist  the  convic- 


260  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

tion  that  he  was  ''  a  good  man  and  a  just."  His  life 
and  deportment  constituted  one  of  those  living,  elo- 
quent arguments  which  infidelity  cannot  resist.  It 
seemed  as  if  no  preacher  acquainted  with  him  could 
ascend  that  pulpit  and  look  around  upon  the  congre- 
gation without  being  cheered  by  the  presence,  or  de- 
pressed by  the  absence  of  that  godly  man.     We  did 

not  know  it,  but  Mr.  W was  fast  ripening  for 

heaven.     His  work  was  nearly  done. 

One  pleasant  evening  I  received  a  message  re- 
questing me  to  repair  immediately  to  the  house  of  my 
venerable  friend,  a  few  miles  out  of  the  village,  as 
he  was  very  sick.  I  went,  and  on  entering  the  room 
perceived  that  God  was  about  to  call  his  aged  servant 
home.  His  mind  was  clear,  serene,  and  peaceful.  His 
faith  was  triumphant.  But  he  had  something  of  spe- 
cial importance  to  say  to  me.  He  left  a  message  of 
love  and  admonition  for  the  little  church  which  ho 
was  about  to  leave.  This  was  not  all.  He  partially 
raised  himself  up  in  bed,  and  cast  his  eyes  around 
upon  the  large  company  present,  children  and  grand- 
children, and  a  sister — the  mother  of  a  large  family — 
and  her  husband,  and  addressed  me  in  substance  as 
follows :  "  You  see  these  people.  I  sent  for  you  to 
talk  to  them,  and  pray  for  them.  I  can  do  no  more. 
My  work  is  done.  I  have  prayed  and  prayed,  and 
talked  and  waited,  and  yet  I  am  about  to  die  and 
leave  them  all,  with  two  exceptions — a  son  and  his 
wife — in  their  sins.  0  pray  for  them,  and  talk  to 
them,  for  /  cannot  do  it.  I  leave  them  with  God  and 
with  you."  He  ceased.  The  solemn  message  was  de- 
livered; his  work  was  done.  We  all  knelt  around 
his  bed  and  prayed  for  him  and  for  them  whose  spirit- 


A  DYING  PATRIARCH.  2G1 

ual  condition  lay  with  much  weight  upon  the  heart  of 
this  dying  patriarch. 

There  were  two  sons  and  one  daughter,  all  heads 
of  interesting  rising  families.  There  were  the  sister 
and  her  husband  and  their  large  family,  several  of 
the  children  grown,  besides  three  amiable  unmarried 
daugliters.  And  yet,  with  the  two  exceptions  men- 
tioned above,  all  this  group  of  amiable,  moral,  intelli- 
gent, church-going  people  had,  up  to  this  time,  suc- 
ceeded in  resisting  the  prayers  and  the  entreaties  of 
this  pious  man  and  his  godly  wife,  who  then  sat  weep- 
ing by  his  dying  bed.  0  what  a  mystery  was  before 
our  eyes.  God's  words  and  promises  are  true ;  and 
yet,  we  know  not  why,  this  pious  aged  couple  were 
about  to  die  while  their  prayers  for  their  children 
and  grandchildren  were  unanswered.  That  night 
the  good  man  slept  in  Jesus.  As  I  closed  his  eyes,  I 
could  well  exclaim,  "  My  father,  my  father,  the  char- 
iot of  Israel,  and  the  horsemen  thereof!"  In  about 
six  months,  Mrs.  W— departed  in  the  same  tri- 
umphant manner. 

I  remembered,  and  endeavored  to  comply  with  the 
dying  injunction  of  my  aged  friend.  I  did  talk  to, 
and  pray  with  and  for  his  unconverted  relatives.  And 
God  blessed  my  efforts,  so  far  as  those  were  concern- 
ed who  resided  in  W and  its  vicinity.  The  coun- 
sel and  the  prayers  of  the  pious  departed  parents 
came  into  remembrance  after  they  were  dead. 

From  night  to  night  I  had  around  me  in  the  in- 
quiry-meeting an  interesting  group  of  anxious  souls 
inquiring  the  way  to  Zion.  And  what  is  remarkable, 
this  religious  feeling,  this  deep  anxiety  about  salva- 
tion, was  dlmost,  if  not  entirely,  confined  to  the  family 


2G2  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

connections  of  the  deceased  man  of  God.  They  shared 
richly  iu  the  blessing.  The  prayers  of  the  parents  had 
ceased,  but  the  ans\Yer  came  at  last.  It  was  not  long 
before  the  sister  and  her  husband,  and  most,  if  not  all 
their  children,  and  all  the  children,  with  one  excep- 
tion, and  several  of  the  grandchildren  of  Mr.  and  Mrs. 

W ,  became  worthy  members  of  the  church.    May 

they  all  meet  in  heaven. 

Before  closing,  I  would  remark,  that  in  the  myste- 
rious providence  of  a  faithful  God,  there  may  be  long 
delay  when  there  is  no  denial  of  the  blessing.  Let 
pious  parents  lead  lives  of  holiness  and  consistency. 
Let  them  pray  without  ceasing  ;  let  them  discharge  all 
their  parental  duties  in  humble  reliance  upon  God's 
blessing,  never  staggering  at  the  promise  through  un- 
belief, and  ever  seeking  by  a  holy  example,  like  Mr. 

and  Mrs.  W ,  to  lead  their  households  to  heaven, 

and  tliey  will  not,  they  cannot  live  and  labor  in  vain. 
God  will  bless  them.  N.  h. 


A  MOTHER'S   PRAYERS. 

My  earliest  recollections  painfully  remind  me  of 
my  father,  and  the  sufferings  of  a  precious  mother ; 
but  they  have  long  since  gone  where  no  disclosures 
can  affect  them,  and  I  relate  the  story  of  maternal 
fidelity  as  an  encouragement  to  mothers  in  every 
sphere  of  life,  and  especially  to  comfort  those  who 
are  exposed  to  such  billows  of  sorrow  as  overwhelm- 
ed the  soul  of  my  dear  mother. 

My  father  Avas  an  intemperate  man,  and  often  very 
abusive  in  liis  family.     My  mother  had  but  two  chil- 


A  MOTHER'S  PRAYERS.  263 

dren,  and  when  she  was  made  miserable  by  unkind 
treatment,  she  would  lead  my  brother  and  myself  to  a 
little  spot  under  a  side-hill,  near  our  house,  where  wc 
were  screened  from  observation  by  the  thick  foliage 
of  the  trees  which  surrounded  us,  and  tliere,  kneeling 
upon  a  log,  with  a  hand  upon  each  little  head,  she 
would  lift  her  tearful  eyes  to  heaven,  and  commend  us 
to  the  love  and  care  of  our  heavenly  Father. 

Hardships  and  trials  soon  brought  my  mother  to 
the  grave,  and  I  was  sent  to  distant  relatives,  who 
were  kind  in  providing  me  temporal  comforts,  but 
"  no  man  cared  for  my  soul."  As  I  grew  up,  I  became 
more  and  more  depraved,  and  at  the  age  of  twenty- 
one,  I  was  vicious  and  degraded. 

I  lived  with  a  farmer,  who  often  sent  me  to  mar- 
ket with  the  produce  of  his  land,  sometimes  to  distant 
parts  of  the  state.  Once,  when  going  to  sell  a  load  of 
grain,  I  found  myself  within  twenty  miles  of  the  home 
of  ray  earlier  days,  and  I  felt  irresistibly  imj>elled  to 
go  and  take  one  look  of  "  the  cave,"  as  my  mother 
called  her  little  retreat,  and  see  if  the  dear  old  log 
,jvas  still  there.  So,  after  I  had  disposed  of  the  grain,  ■ 
I  turned  my  horses  from  the  direct  road,  stopped  for 
the  night,  and  reached  the  scene  of  my  childhood  at 
nine  o'clock  the  nest  morning. 

There  I  found  the  Bethel,  the  trees,  and  the  log 
nearly  decayed,  but  in  the  very  position  where  I  dis- 
tinctly remembered  to  have  seen  it  so  many  years 
before.  I  seated  myself  upon  it.  The  grass  looked 
as  if  no  foot  had  pressed  it  since  the  dear  guide  of 
my  infant  days  was  laid  in  her  grave.  I  seemed  to 
feel  her  warm  hand  upon  my  head,  and  to  hear  her 
trembling  voice  supplicating  blessings  for  me ;  mer- 


264  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

cies  I  had  despised,  privileges  I  had  abused.  The 
anguish  I  endured,  I  can  never  describe.  On  that 
spot,  for  the  first  time  in  my  life,  I  felt  myself 'a 
wretched  sinner.  I  could  not  tear  myself  away  till  I 
had  obtained  some  relief  to  my  tortured  conscience, 
and  it  was  near  sunset  before  I  left  the  sacred  spot. 
I  did  not  leave  it  till  I  had  resolved  to  devote  the 
remainder  of  my  life  to  God  ;  to  leave  all  and  follow 
him ;  and  by  his  grace  I  trust  I  have  been  enabled, 
though  imperfectly,  to  keep  that  resolution. 

My  precious  mother's  prayers  were  answered,  and 
I,  "  a  miracle  of  grace,"  am  a  monument  of  the  faith- 
fulness of  a  prayer-hearing  God.  A  Clergyman. 


A  SISTER'S   LOVE. 

I  was  a  thoughtless  youth,  even  more  regardless 
of  serious  things  than  boys  in  general.  But  I  had 
one  tie  which  bound  me  to  home,  and  restrained  me 
from  all  outward  immoralities;  this  was  a  peculiar 
affection  for  my  sister.  Few  brothers  and  sisters,  I 
think,  ever  love  each  other  as  we  did.  All  our 
thoughts,  feelings,  and  plans  were  shared  together, 
and  neither  could  enjoy  any  thing  alone.  A  walk,  a 
ride,  a  book,  or  concert,  lost  half  its  charm  if  Anna 
were  away,  and  she  was  the  first  to  soothe  every  ris- 
ing sorrow. 

When  I  was  seventeen,  there  was  a  revival  of 
religion  in  the  church  to  which  my  father  belonged, 
and  Anna  and  I  occasionally  attended  tlie  evening 
meetings.  I  noticed  Anna  was  very  silent  on  our 
return  from  these;  but  as  I  did  not  care  to  say  any 


A  SISTER'S  LOVE.  265 

thing  upon  the  subject,  I  was  content  it  should  be  so. 
Yet  there  lurked  within  me  an  uneasy  fear  that  she 
was  becoming  more  interested  in  religious  things  than 
I  was.  1  could  not  bear  the  idea ;  it  even  made  me 
angry  to  think  of  my  bright,  lively  Anna's  becoming 
a  Christian,  for  I  was  certain  it  would  spoil  her  for 
me,  and  destroy  our  happiness  in  each  other.  I  be- 
came more  certain  something  was  weigliing  on  her 
spirits,  for  instead  of  moving  merrily  about  the  house, 
singing  snatches  of  gay  songs,  her  step  became  slow 
and  thoughtful,  and  her  eye  was  downcast  and  often 
filled  with  tears.  Yet  with  a  cruel  selfishness,  I  re- 
frained from  asking  what  disturbed  her ;  and  once, 
when  I  saw  her  eye  resting  on  my  face  with  an  ex- 
pression of  intense  interest,  I  turned  away  from  the 
beseeching  glance,  and  left  the  room. 

The  next  morning,  I  found  a  little  note  from  her 
on  my  table.  I  took  it  up  with  a  feeling  of  bitterness 
in  my  heart,  and  crushing  it,  thrust  it  into  my  pocket, 
determined  not  to  read  it,  so  sure  did  I  fcfel  that  it 
contained  something  about  my  soul's  salvation.  I 
was  then  a  member  of  the  academy,  fitting  for  college, 
and  I  went  to  the  school-room,  endeaA-oring  by  unu- 
sual attention  to  my  books  to  forget  the  circumstance 
altogether.  But  a  sense  of  my  injustice  smote  me, 
and  in  the  course  of  the  forenoon  I  drew  forth  the 
note,  intending  to  read  it,  but  determined  that  it 
should  exert  no  influence  over  me.  I  had  even  plan- 
ned a  reply  to  it,  in  which  I  should  beg  her  never  to 
let  that  subject  be  spoken  of  between  us.  And  yet 
my  heart  was  so  melted  by  the  contents  of  that  little 
note,  that  before  it  was  finished  I  was  forced  to  bow 
my  head  over  the  desk  to  conceal  my  tears.  It  touched 

Sketches.  1? 


266  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

the  right  chord  in  my  heart.  She  said  slic  had  told 
no  one  of  the  new  hope  of  heaven  Avhicli  was  in  lier 
lieart,  because  she  must  first  speak  of  it  to  me,  as  she 
had  always  done  of  other  feelings,  and  that  she  could 
not  fully  enjoy  it  without  my  sympathy.  Yes,  she 
was  my  own  trusting,  loving  Anna  still.  Becoming  a 
Christian  had  not  made  her  cold  and  distant,  as  I  had 
fancied  it  would ;  and  when  I  went  home  I  had  a 
long,  frank  conversation  with  her.  From  that  point 
I  date  my  first  religious  impressions.  To  that  dear 
sister's  love  and  prayers  I  owe  my  soul's  salvation,  so 
far  as  any  human  instrumentality  is  connected  with 
it;  and  I  need  not  say  that  she  was  thenceforth  dear- 
er to  me  than  ever.  Yet,  had  she  remained  silent  at 
this  point,  and  had  I  learned  the  state  of  her  feelings 
from  others,  a  barrier  would  have  been  raised  between 
us,  wdiich  might  never  have  been  removed. 

Do  not  fear  to  speak,  young  Christian,  of  your 
new  hopes  and  desires  to  your  dearest  friend ;  but 
speak  tenderly,  naturally,  and  confidingly,  I  need  not 
add  with  humility  also;  for  when  was  ever  a  human 
soul  filled  with  the  love  of  Jesus,  that  it  was  not  soft- 
ened and  humbled  by  it,  and  made  "  meek  and  lowly  ?" 

w. 


A  PRODIGAL'S  WELCOME. 

Charles  was  a  favorite  and  only  son  in  a  pleasant 
New  England  home.  Unfortunately,  as  he  entered 
upon  the  excitements  and  pleasures  of  youth,  he  caught 
from  infidel  companions  the  poison  of  scepticism. 
Wealth  and  fashion  gave  to  the  Puritan  piety  of  the 
parental  heart  a  repulsive  seriousness,  and  the  scorn- 


A  PRODIGAL'S  WELCOME.  207 

fill  smile  often  betrayed  the  unwilling  respect  he  ren- 
dered to  the  family  altar.  Remonstrance  and  tears 
Avere  in  vain.  The  hue  of  infidelity  darkened  daily 
upon  his  otherwise  fine  character,  until  at  length  his 
language  assumed  a  bolder  tone,  and  his  disrelish  of 
domestic  religion  became  painfully  marked. 

One  morning  after  family  prayer,  he  told  liis  father 
with  spirited  decision,  that  if  lie  did  not  abandon  the 
superstitious  custom,  he  should  leave  home  ;  he  would 
go  to  more  congenial  associations,  and  find  wealth 
without  the  annoyance  of  a  faith  he  entirely  rejected. 
His  father  with  grief  assured  Charles  that  he  could 
not  demolish  the  altar  of  prayer,  even  if  it  made  a 
final  separation  between  them  ;  the  throne  of  grace 
was  too  precious  to  desert  for  a  day.  The  sceptic 
curled  his  lip  in  the  pride  of  perverted  reason,  and 
asked  for  his  portion  of  money.  With  strange  indis- 
cretion in  too  indulgent  parents,  it  was  given,  with 
many  tears  and  strong  cries  unto  the  Lord  for  re- 
claiming grace. 

Charles  went  to  a  distant  city,  commenced  busi- 
ness, formed  friendships  with  gay  and  unprincipled 
young  men,  and  in  a  year  was  a  penniless  bankrupt. 
In  his  destitution,  he  thought  of  home ;  and  though 
pride  struggled  fiercely  with  conscience  and  affection, 
he  arose  and  started  for  the  place  of  his  birth.  Most 
of  the  way  he  was  compelled  to  walk ;  and  on  Satur- 
day night,  he  was  within  a  few  miles  of  his  father's 
house. 

He  stopped  at  an  inn,  and  in  the  morning  had  not 
means  to  pay  his  bill.  The  landlord  opened  his  pack- 
age, and  took  out  a  Bible.  Charles,  weeping,  said  it 
was  a  mother's  gift,  and  begged  for  the  neglected 


2G8  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

volume.  The  landlord  refused,  offering  to  restore  it 
when  redeemed  by  compensation  in  some  other  form. 
Charles  went  sadly  on  his  homeward  track,  lingering 
in  distressful  thought  by  the  way,  till  tlie  sun  of  that 
Sabbath  was  sinking  behind  the  familiar  hills.  He 
quickened  his  pace,  and  as  the  full  moon  rose  he 
reached  the  threshold  of  home.  By  a  retired  en- 
trance he  stole  into  a  silent  apartment.  He  listened, 
and  heard  the  voice  of  prayer.  Moving  forward  to 
the  partially  open  door,  he  saw  the  grey-haired  father, 
surrounded  by  mother  and  sisters,  bowed  before  the 
despised  altar  praying  for  him.  The  rustling  of 
Charles'  agitated  form  drew  the  attention  of  a  sister, 
who  gazed  a  moment  in  surprise,  and  in  a  wild  gush 
of  feeling  exclaimed,  "Oh,  Charles  is  come."  The 
prayer  ceased,  and  in  a  moment  a  network  of  arms 
enfolded  the  prodigal.  The  mother  inquired  for  tlie 
Bible ;  a  frank  confession  was  scarcely  uttered,  be- 
fore the  exclamation  was  renewed,  "  Oh,  Charles,  we 
are  so  glad  you  have  come."  Soon  all  bowed  togeth- 
er, and  angels  smiled  over  the  scene. 

And  is  it  so,  that  God  holds  an  attitude  as  sub- 
duing to  every  returning  sinner?  When  tlie  interests 
of  two  worlds  are  at  stake,  how  can  the  prodigal  re- 
fuse to  gather  up  his  rags,  and  go  penitently  to  his 
infinite  Father?  p.  c.  h. 


A   HOUSE   AND  FAMILY  LOST. 

One  dark  and  stormy  night  in  July,  1830,  the 
family  of  Mr.  John  Wilson  of  New  Haven,  in  the 
Green  Mountains  of  Vermont,  had  retired  to  rest. 


A  HOUSE  AND  FAMILY  LOST.  2G9 

The  night  was  cliecrlcss,  the  wind  howled,  and  the 
rain  pelted  ;  but  there  had  been  such  things  before  a 
hundred  times,  when  they  had  barred  their  doors, 
gone  to  their  rest  in  quietness,  and  awoke  to  their 
labor  in  safety  and  good  cheer.  And  why  not  now  ? 
Alas,  the  house  did  not  stand  on  a  sure  foundation. 
It  was  in  the  midst  of  a  ravine,  formed  by  a  branch 
of  tlie  Otter  creek.  The  spot  is  Avell  known  by  the 
name  of  Bananas  Hollow — hollow  being  descriptive  of 
a  ravine,  closed  at  one  end  or  botli  by  some  nearer 
approach  of  the  adjacent  hills,  forming  often  at  the 
outlet,  as  here,  a  cataract. 

At  night's  deadest  hour  the  family  were  awakened 
by  a  crash,  and  what  seemed  a  moving  of  the  house. 
And  now  it  seemed  afloat,  the  water  gushing  in  at 
every  open  and  opening  crack.  There  was  no  longer 
any  doubt  of  the  dreadful  reality:  their  house  had 
been  carried  away  by  the  flood,  which  in  so  short  a 
time  had  risen  to  an  unwonted  height.  And  now  it 
was  shooting  madly  through  trees  and  amid  rocks, 
and  approaching  a  fearful  cataract.  Mr.  Wilson  and 
a  son  plunged  into  the  flood,  and  with  extreme  diffi- 
culty reached  the  shore,  but  not  before  the  wild 
shrieks  of  Mrs.  Wilson,  her  sister,  and  three  children, 
heard  even  above  the  tempest's  roar,  had  been  stifled 
by  the  overpowering  billows.  The  house  with  its  de- 
voted inmates  went  over  the  cataract,  and  scarcely  a 
wreck  was  found  to  tell  tlie  tale  of  its  destruction. 

This  narrative,  of  which  the  details  were  contained 
in  almost  every  journal  of  that  period,  suggests  serious 
admonitions.  Our  Saviour,  in  the  conclusion  of  the 
sermon  on  the  mount,  says,  "  Whosoever  heareth  these 
sayings  of  mine  and  doeth  them,  I  will  liken  him  to  a 


210  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

man  which  built  his  lioiise  upon  a  rock  ;  and  tlie  rain 
descended,  and  the  floods  came,  and  tlie  winds  blew 
and  beat  upon  that  house,  and  it  fell  not,  for  it  was 
founded  on  a  rock.  And  every  one  that  heareth  these 
sayings  of  mine  and  doeth  them  not,  shall  be  likened 
unto  a  foolish  man  which  built  his  house  upon  the 
sand  ;  and  the  rain  descended,  and  tlie  floods  came, 
and  the  winds  blew  and  beat  upon  that  house,  and  it 
fell ;  and  great  was  the  fall  of  it." 

Storms  will  beat  upon  you  ;  sickness,  bereavement, 
pecuniary  losses,  disappointment  of  worldly  plans,  are 
the  common  lot  of  men.  Can  you  hope  to  escape? 
Some  of  these,  or  all  together,  will  beat  down  the 
house  of  your  frail  body ;  there  is  no  escaping  the 
storm  of  death.^  Like  the  house  that  went  over  the 
cataract  and  was  dashed  in  pieces,  the,  house  of  your 
frail  body  must  go  over  the  cataract  of  death  and  be 
whelmed  beneath  its  flood. 

And  there  are  storms  in  prospect  beyond  this  life. 
This  world  will  be  burned  up  ;  these  elements  will 
melt  with  fervent  heat;  these  heavens  will  pass  away 
with  a  great  noise.  These  storms  will  beat  against 
the  house  of  the  undying  soul ;  they  will  beat  against 
it  by  the  clear  intimations  they  will  give  of  God's 
wrath  about  to  be  manifested  against  the  ungodly. 
And  then  the  throne  of  his  judgment  will  be  set,  and 
all  men  will  stand  before  him.  Some  will  be  justified 
freely  by  his  grace,  yea,  a  great  multitude ;  and  a 
great  multitude  will  be  condemned,  and  driven  from 
his  presence  with  an  everlasting  destruction.  This  is 
the  storm  of  which  we  would  forewarn  you.  All 
other  storms  are  slight  in  comparison  with  this,  for 
they  wreck  only  the  body,  but  this  storm  will  wreck 


A  HOUSE  AND  FAMILY  LOST.  271 

tlic  soul — not  the  body  only,  not  an  earthly  house,  not 
the  world  itself  merely,  but  it  will  wreck  the  immor- 
tal soul — the  soul,  the  very  self,  the  indestructible 
principle  within  us,  will  be  wrecked.  As  the  house  in 
the  narrative  went  over  the  fearful  cataract,  bearing- 
all  that  was  dear  to  the  husband  and  the  father  to 
irremediable  destruction,  so  will  the  soul  then  be  car- 
ried over  the  last  fatal  cataract.  It  will  plunge  into 
the  bottomless  pit. 

Here  then  you  are.  The  storms  of  this  world  are 
beating  against  the  house  of  your  decaying  body,  and 
fall  before  them  it  must.  You  must  die.  Storms  are 
in  prospect — the  storms  of  eternity ;  and  your  poor 
naked  soul,  houseless,  homeless,  cheerless,  is  in  danger 
of  being  exposed  to  them  for  ever.  Christ  declares 
that  the  only  foundation  on  which  you  can  rest,  if 
you  will  be  saved  by  law,  is  obedience  to  that  law, 
not  in  the  letter  merely,  but  in  its  heart-searching 
spirit,  as  he  has  explaincQl  it  in  the  sermon  on  the 
mount.  But  this  is  absolutely  out  of  the  question. 
You  owe  ten  thousand  talents,  and  have  nothing  to 
pay.  You  cannot  safely  build  your  house  on  such  a 
foundation :  down,  down,  down  it  m  ill  go  ;  like  the 
house  on  the  foundation  of  sand,  over  the  cataract  it 
will  plunge,  a  dreadful  ruin.  To  Christ,  then,  you 
must  go  for  pardon  and  a  new  heart ;  and  when  the 
storms  of  God's  wrath  shall  beat  against  the  wicked, 
you  will  be  safe.  Standing  on  a  foundation  Avhich 
cannot  be  moved,  clothed  with  a  spotless  robe,  your 
head  adorned  with  a  golden  crown,  and  your  hands 
with  a  golden  harp,  you  will  rejoice  with  joy  unspeak- 
able and  full  of  glorv. 


272  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

"  There  is  a  fountain  fiiled  with  blood, 
Drawn  from  Immanuel's  veins, 
And  sinnei-s  plunged  beneath  that  flood, 
Lose  all  their  guilty  stains." 

llcincmber,  there  are  but  two  "svays  by  "svliicli  it  is 
possible  for  a  soul  to  be  saved.  One  is  by  keeping- 
the  whole  law ;  there  must  not  be  one  failure  from 
earliest  infancy  to  latest  old  age.  The  other  is  by 
going  to  Christ  for  pardon  and  a  new  heart.  Will 
you  ti'ust  the  former  for  a  foundation?  IMadness. 
No  mere  man  ever  kept  the  Avhole  law,  and  no  man 
was  ever  saved  by  keeping  half  the  law  or  any  frac- 
tion of  it.  No,  you  must  be  saved  whole  and  entire 
by  Christ.  There  is  no  sure  foundation  but  Christ. 
By  the  law  you  are  utterly  ruined,  your  house  is  on  a 
foundation  of  sand  ;  it  may  be  it  is  already  unmoor- 
ed, is  already  afloat,  is  now  nearing  the  fatal  cataract, 
and  that  you  have  a  few  moments  only  to  escape.  Be 
exhorted,  then,  to  make  without  delay  one  mighty 
effort,  and  plant  your  feet  upon  the  Rock.  0,  the 
fearfulness  of  that  destruction  Avhicli  awaits  the  sin- 
ner trusting  to  his  sandy  foundation !  n. 


THE   LOST   FOUND. 

On  my  way  from  New  York  to  Philadelphia,  I 
witnessed  a  thrilling  scene.  The  steam-boat  for  Am- 
boy  was  crowded  with  emigrants  and  their  effects  on 
the  way  to  the  far  West.  These  passengers  are  sta- 
tioned on  the  forward  deck,  and  there  is  a  plank  for 
their  accommodation  by  which  they  pass  from  tlic 
dock  to  tlie  boat,  while  by  another  plank  the  other 
passengers  enter  the  after-part  of  the  vessel.      The 


THE  LOST  FOUND.  2'r3 

wheels  had  long  been  in  motion,  the  foaming  waters 
were  dashed  impctuousl}'  to  the  shore,  the  boat  was 
tossed  to  and  fro,  and  seemed  impatient  to  be  gone; 
but  her  hawsers  still  held  her  to  the  shore.  Family 
after  family  and  load  after  load  arrived  and  were 
received  on  board,  and  there  were  parting  tears  and 
embraces,  as  some  were  about  to  embark  for  the  great 
AVest,  Avhile  others  remained  in  the  great  city. 

A  numerous  family  of  great  and  small  were  seen 
approaching  in  evident  haste ;  they  saw  the  boat  in 
motion,  and  thought  her  about  to  leave.  In  vain  did 
the  boat's  men  endeavor  to  prevent  their  entering  the 
boat  by  the  after-plank  ;  they  daslied  on  board  by  the 
first  plank  they  came  to,  except  one  little  girl,  wlio 
was  crowded  along  the  wharf  and  taken  to  the  for- 
ward-deck. No  sooner  were  the  parents  and  older 
children  safely  on  board,  than  they  looked  around  to 
see  if  all  were  there,  and  almost  instantly  the  cry  was 
made,  "  AVhcre  is  Hannah  ?  Hannah  's  gone !  Han- 
nah, Hannah  !"'  Vain  was  the  attempt  to  still  them. 
Louder  and  more  earnest  was  the  cry,  from  father, 
mother,  brothers,  and  sisters,  "Hannah!  0  Hannah, 
Hannah,  Hannah  !"  But  soon  the  child  was  brought, 
and  then  as  loud  and  as  earnest  was  the  cry,  "Han- 
nah is  found  !  Hannah 's  here,  Hannah 's  here !"  Deep 
was  the  feeling  of  that  moment.  There  were  tears  of 
joy  from  the  friends  of  Hannah,  and  there  were  tears 
of  sympathy  from  the  passengers  around  them.  There 
was  joy  as  when  the  prodigal  returned  to  his  father's 
house.  So,  sinners,  if  you  will  return  unto  God,  there 
will  be  joy  over  you  ;  for  there  is  joy  in  the  presence 
of  the  angels  of  God  over  one  sinner  that  repcnteth. 
Shall  there  be  joy  over  you?     Luke  15.     Shall  vour 


274 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 


heavenly  Father  say,  "The  lost  is  found ;  the  lost  one 
is  here?" 

Other  families  came,  and  were  taken  on  board  ; 
and  still  they  continued  to  come  ;  but  when  the  mo- 
ment arrived  the  boat  was  oflf,  and  some  were  too  late 


but  a  minute  too  late,  and  they  were  left.  Thus  fam- 
ilies and  friends  were  separated.  In  vain  they  called 
for  the  boat  to  stop  ;  they  could  only  wave  their  hats, 
their  handkerchiefs,  and  their  hands,  and  thus  bid 
adieu  to  their  more  punctual  and  successful  friends, 
and  tlien  return  with  disappointed  and  sorrowful 
hearts,  to  their  lodginj^s  in  the  city. 


A  MEMORABLE  VISIT.  275 

The  door  of  the  ark  of  safety  is  still  open :  you 
are  invited  to  enter ;  but  if  you  delay,  you  may  apply 
for  admission  when  it  is  too  late,  and  then  you  apply 
in  vain.  Too  late!  too  late!  0  let  the  words  sink 
into  your  heart.  Awake ;  be  in  earnest  in  seeking  the 
salvation  of  your  soul.  Call  upon  God  for  mercy ; 
repent  of  sin  ;  believe  in  Jesus  Christ ;  yield  to  the 
strivings  of  the  Spirit ;  put  your  trust  in  the  Triune 
God,  for  "salvation  is  of  the  Lord."     Jonah  2  : 9. 

w.  J.  M. 


A   MEMOEABLE   VISIT. 

On  a  pleasant  evening,  I  called  with  my  compan- 
ion to  spend  the  evening  with  the  family  of  a  Chris- 
tian brother,  with  the  view  of  making  a  pastoral  visit. 
His  children  were  gone  from  home  ;  but  we  were  wel- 
comed by  the  parents,  and  in  the  good  providence  of 
God,  we  found  there  another  father  and  mother,  from 

N ,  old  acquaintances  of  ours,  both  of  whom  are 

Zion's  friends.  During  the  evening  much  of  our  con- 
versation was  on  the  low  state  of  religion,  and  the 
reasons  why  God  had  to  such  a  degree  withdrawn  his 
Holy  Spirit.  We  walked  about  Zion,  We  viewed 
her  desolations. 

One  of  the  brethren  inquired  how  long  things 
must  remain  in  this  way.  "Is  not  the  Lord,''  said  he, 
*•  on  the  throne  of  grace  ?"  ''  He  is,"  said  another, 
"and  that  is  all  our  hope."  With  these  words  all  the 
company  were  silent,  as  if  we  had  heard  a  voice  from 
heaven — This  is  all  our  hope. 

Another  brother  broke  silence  by  saying,  "  Proba- 
bly we  have  all  a  work  to  do  at  home.     And,"  said 


276  SKETCHES   FROM  LIFE. 

ho,  "wc  six  of  us  are  parents,  and  liow  is  it  at  liomc'i 
I  propose  that  each  one  in  turn  irivc  a  history  of  his 
own  family.  Are  any  of  our  children  professors  of 
religion  ?" 

The  pastor  began  hy  saying,  '"At  times  our  chil- 
dren have  been  thoughtful  and  tender ;  yet  none  of 
our  live  children  profess  to  be  Christians.  They  yet 
give  a  respectful  attention  to  serious  things,  but  they 
must  be  born  again.  And  when  I  think  of  the  final 
separation  at  the  judgment-seat  of  Christ,  I  am  over- 
come. Can  we,  who  arc  parents,  fix  our  eyes  on  the 
child  whom  we  can  consent  to  see  go  away  to  the  left 
hand  of  the  Judge  T'  As  he  went  on  in  that  strain,  his 
companion  wept  as  if  she  saw  the  final  separation  near. 

The  next  brother  gave  a  similar  account  of  his 
children.  No  one  of  them  indulged  hope.  And  he 
said  he  feared  that  if  any  of  them  were  lost,  much  of 
the  blame  would  be  chargeable  to  himself.  "  But," 
said  he,  "when  I  think  of  the  value  of  one  soul — 
when  I  think  what  it  is  for  that  soul  to  mourn  for 
ever  in  hell,  the  thought  of  sparing  one  of  our  chil- 
dren to  weep  there  makes  me  astonished  at  my  own 
indifference."  And  his  wife  said,  "  I  hope  you  will 
all  pray  for  our  children ;  who  knows  but  God  will 
yet  have  mercy  on  them."  She  added  a  few  words, 
and  evidently  wished  to  say  something  about  the  final 
separation,  but  her  sighs  and  tears  expressed  what 
she  could  not  do  in  words. 

The  other  brother  said  he  must  say  of  their  chil- 
dren what  the  others  had  said,  they  were  all  without 
God  and  without  hope.  He  had  no  reason  to  think, 
if  they  should  die  as  they  were,  that  they  could  go  to 
heaven  ;  and  the  thought  that  God  is  on  the  mercy- 


A  MZMOUADLE  VISIT.  ?7T 

scat  is  all  my  hope  for  Ihcra.  We  little  think  what 
it  is  to  see  a  child  dying  in  his  sins,  conscious  that  avc 
Avho  are  parents  arc  chargeable  with  the  neglect  of 
their  souls.  And  his  wife  added,  "  Yes,  we  arc  will- 
ing and  even  anxious  to  make  our  children  respecta- 
ble in  the  world  ;  and  though  wc  may  now  and  then 
cast  a  thought  beyond  the  grave  for  them,  we  have 
too  much  neglected  their  souls." 

The  Bible  was  then  brought,  and  the  fifty-first 
Psalm  was  read,  "  Have  mercy  upon  me,  0  God ;" 
and  when  the  Bible  was  closed,  one  of  the  brethren 
said  he  would  propose,  that  we  six  parents  should  en- 
ter into  an  engagement  to  pray  for  the  conversion  of 
our  children,  until  the  Lord  should  hear  ;  "  and  espe- 
cially," he  said,  "let  us  remember  them  at  the  family 
altar."  It  was  a  solemn  moment  when  each  for  him- 
self and  herself  covenanted  to  remember  especially 
the  children  of  these  three  families.  Then  all  fell  on 
our  knees,  each  with  a  burden  that  seemed  to  call  for 
the  deepest  prostration ;  and  the  brethren,  one  after 
the  other,  prayed  and  confessed  our  sins  and  the  sins 
of  our  children.  One  of  them,  seemingly  more  bur- 
dened than  the  rest,  said,  "  Come,  Lord  Jesus,  ere  my 
child  die." 

When  we  parted  that  night,  each  went  to  his  own 
home,  but  not  to  rest.  We  mourned  every  family 
apart,  as  the  mourning  of  Hadadrimmon  in  the  val- 
ley of  Megiddon.  According  to  agreement,  the  next 
morning  we  informed  our  children  of  the  last- night's 
visit,  and  of  the  mutual  covenant  we  had  entered  into 
for  them.  Every  child  dropped  his  head,  and  some 
of  them  covered  their  faces.  To  some  the  communis 
cation  seemed  welcome  ;  but  to  all  a  message  from 


218  SKETCHES  FROM   LIFE. 

God.  For  weeks,  however,  tliey  all  seemed  to  con- 
tinue about  the  same — neither  careless  nor  indulging 
hope. 

One  of  these  brethren  saw  with  pain  that  his  chil- 
dren were  remaining  stationary,  and  he  feared  they 
would  go  back.  He  was  led  to  deep  heart-searching. 
He  feared  his  children  would  all  die  in  their  sins,  and 
tliat  he  should  sink  to  hell  with  them.  He  thought 
of  the  judgment-day ;  he  saw  their  sins,  chargeable 
upon  him.  The  books  were  opened  :  his  life  came  up 
in  review  ;  and  he  was  condemned.  A  horror  of  great 
darkness  fell  upon  him.  More  than  once  did  he  cry 
out  in  the  anguish  of  his  soul,  "  My  God,  my  Redeem- 
er, why,  why  hast  thou  forsaken  me?"  His  sins  stood 
in  order  before  him  like  an  armed  troop. 

He  went  to  revisit  the  family  where  that  memora- 
ble visit  was  held.  He  there  found  their  daughter  in 
deep  distress  for  her  soul.  She  said  she  had  been  a 
great  sinner,  and  asked  him  to  pray  for  her.  He 
found  that  for  several  days  her  mother,  though  she 
had  been  for  near  twenty  years  an  amiable  professor, 
was  now  in  deep  distress.  Her  husband  said  she  had 
been  almost  in  despair  for  several  days,  and  he  was 
concerned  for  her.  The  brother,  who  himself  had 
come  for  consolation,  forgetting  his  own  pangs,  set 
about  pointing  them  to  the  blood  of  Christ.  He  said 
we  were  not  required  to  make  atonement ;  that  though 
we  might  weep  tears  of  blood,  we  could  give  no  satis- 
faction to  God's  injured  law  ;  but  Christ  had  died,  the 
just  for  the  unjust,  that  he  might  bring  us  to  God. 
And  when  they  all  went  to  prayer,  the  way  of  salva- 
tion through  the  blood  and  intercession  of  our  great 
High-priest,  burst  upon  their  minds  like  the  morning 


ONE  SIN   MAY   DESTROY  THE  SOUL.         279 

spread  upon  the  mountains.  This  brother  went  home 
comforted  with  the  comfort  wlierewitli  lie  endeavored 
to  comfort  them. 

In  our  next  prayer-meeting,  tliis  mother  and  daugh- 
ter told  us  with  humility  and  joy  what  God  had  done 
for  them.  From  this  time  the  work  of  God  was  spread- 
ing- into  other  families.  Meetings  were  still  and  sol- 
emn. One  after  another  arose  to  testify  how  the  Lord 
had  appeared  in  mercy  for  his  soul. 

"We  soon  heard  from  the  town  of  N ,  that  God 

had  not  only  converted  three  of  that  brother's  chil- 
dren for  whom  we  had  covenanted  to  pray,  but  a  great 
awakening  was  spreading  through  all  the  place ;  and 
many  of  the  youth  were  turning  to  the  Lord. 

The  first  Sabbath  in  July  was  a  memorable  day. 
With  many  others,  the  three  families  who  had  entered 
into  mutual  engagement  to  pray  for  the  conversion  of 
our  children,  saw  nine  of  them,  just  three  from  each 
family,  come  with  us  to  the  Lord's  table.  s.  M. 


ONE   SIN   MAY   DESTROY   THE   SOUL. 

It  was  during  a  precious  season  of  reviving  mercy 

in  N ,  that  a  whole  family,  consisting  of  a  father 

and  mother  and  two  children,  who  sat  under  my  min- 
istry, were  awakened  simultaneously  by  the  Spirit  of 
the  Lord.  It  was  a  highly  respectable  as  well  as 
amiable  family,  and  soon  the  mother,  with  the  sou  and 
daughter,  were  rejoicing  in  hope. 

Sabbath  after  Sabbath  the  father  would  stop  to 
walk  with  me  after  church,  and  converse  freely  and 
with  tears  about  his  soul,  and  I  wondered  why  he  too 


280  SKETCHES  FROM   LIFE. 

did  not  find  the  Saviour  precious,  as  did  the  others  of 
his  household.  At  last  I  was  informed  by  some  friend, 
that  lie  was  in  the  habit  of  using  intoxicating  drinks. 
Upon  receiving  this  intelligence,  I  went  immediately 
to  see  him.  Soon  he  came  in,  and  I  saw  at  once  by 
his  glassy  eyes  and  his  indistinct  and  incoherent  con- 
versation, that  lie  was  intoxicated. 

Taking  him  by  the  arm  I  led  him  into  his  garden, 
and  said  to  him,  with  deep  emotion,  '"  Sir,  you  have 
been  drinking  ;  and  I  now  tell  you,  that  if  you  do  not 
abandon  it,  you  v\dll  lose  your  soul."  He  replied,  "  I 
do  not  drink  any  thing  stronger  than  beer,  cider,  and 

wine  ;  and  Dr.  says  this  is  not  wrong,"    "  I  care 

not,"  said  I,  ".  what  Dr. says,  or  any  one  else ;  it 

is  clear  to  me,  that  unless  you  abandon  them  you  will 
lose  your  soul." 

He  received  it  kindly,  and  leading  mo  to  the  rear 
of  his  lot,  he  stopped  and  said,  "  Sir,  on  tliis  very  spot, 
eight  years  ago,  I  promised  my  brother  that  I  would 
not  again  drink  any  distilled  liquor,  and  I  have  kept 
my  promise.  I  now  promise  you  tliat  I  will  never 
drink  any  intoxicating  liquor."  We  returned  to  tlic 
house,  when  I  poured  out  my  heart  for  him  in  prayer, 
and  went  home. 

The  day  of  his  pledge  was  the  day  of  his  salva- 
tion. When  I  met  him  the  next  Sabbath,  he  was  re- 
joicing in  hope.  From  that  day,  now  about  fifteen 
years  since,  he  has  been  a  thorough  temperance  man, 
and  as  thorough  a  Christian.  Indeed,  I  scarcely 
know  a  happier  man,  or  a  happier  family.  His  ex- 
pressions of  gratitude  whenever  we  meet,  are  so  full 
and  overflowing  as  almost  to  be  painful. 

In  this  day  of  increasing  intemperance,  and  when 


A   DYING  SON.  281 

even  those  who  were  once  temperance  physicians  are 
returning  to  their  alcoholic  prescriptions,  and  moder- 
ate drinking  is  becoming  fashionable,  I  would  recom- 
mend the  Rev,  Dr.  Nettleton's  letter  to  Dr.  Beecher, 
on  the  subject  of  drinking  as  connected  with  religion. 
It  is  found  in  his  Life,  and  no  man  knew  better  than 
he  the  ruinous  consequences  to  convicted  sinners,  for 
he  was  conversant  with  revivals  as  veryfew  men  now 
alive  liave  been.  l. 


A   DYING   SON 


Several  years  ago  I  was  called  to  visit  a  young 
man  who  was  on  his  dying  bed,  under  circumstances 
peculiarly  calculated  to  touch  one's  feelings.  He  was 
the  only  son  of  his  mother,  and  she  was  a  widow. 
The  father,  a  captain  of  a  whale-ship,  had  died,  leav- 
ing his  widow,  this  son,  and  a  daughter  in  very  feeble 
health,  utterly  destitute.  All  the  hopes  of  the  moth- 
er and  the  daughter  were  centred  in  this  young  man. 

He  was  about  eighteen  years  of  age,  and  embarked 
as  a  sailor  on  a  whaling  voyage  round  Cape  Horn. 
The  mother  and  daughter,  sustained  by  hope,  endeav- 
ored by  means  of  the  needle,  during  his  absence,  to 
obtain  a  humble  subsistence.  When  about  a  year  out, 
he  was  taken  sick  ;  but  stimulated  by  the  vast  respon- 
sibilities resting  upon  him,  he  persevered  in  remaining 
on  duty  till  he  was  hardly  able  to  lift  liis  hand.  He 
then,  with  a  saddened  heart,  gave  up,  still  hoping  that 
health  would  be  restored  to  him.  But  days  and 
nights  came  and  went,  as  he  lay  in  his  cheerless  berth 
counting  the  dreary  hours,  and  often  weeping  in  the 
remembrance  of  his  lost  home.      All  on  board  the 


282  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

ship  were  too  busy  to  give  the  sick  man  any  but  the 
most  casual  attentions. 

Thus  several  months  of  weariness  and  woe  passed 
away.  Each  week  he  was  growing  more  wan  and 
wasted,  and  as  the  ship  rolled  upon  the  billows  of  the 
Pacific,  he  had  no  strengtli  to  shield  himself  from  be- 
ing violently  tossed  to  and  fro  in  his  hard  berth.  All 
hopes  of  reco'very  seemed  now  at  an  end,  and  the  cap- 
tain meeting  a  ship  which  was  about  to  return  to  the 
United  States,  decided  to  transfer  the  sick  man  from 
his  own  ship,  which  was  to  continue  for  two  years 
longer,  perhaps,  its  adventurous  voyage.  It  was  pos-' 
sible  that  the  young  man  might  survive  until  he  reach- 
ed home.  It  was  possible  that  a  mother's  care  might 
yet  restore  him.  Mute  and  exhausted  imder  the 
dreadful  discipline  of  months  of  despair,  he  was  pas- 
sively borne  to  a  berth  in  the  homeward-bound  ship. 
A  voyage  of  five  months  was  yet  before  him.  He 
was  to  be  tossed  upon  the  tempest-lashed  waves  of  the 
Cape.  The  coarse  fare  of  the  sailor  was  all  the  nu- 
triment which  could  be  furnished  for  his  enfeebled 
frame,  and  no  nursing  could  be  afforded  liim,  but  such 
as  could  be  offered  by  the  busy  hands  of  a  crew  col- 
lected from  all  nations. 

The  months  dragged  slowly  along,  and  life  still 
lingered,  to  the  surprise  of  all.  At  last  the  hills  of 
his  native  land  were  in  sight,  and  tlie  ship  dropped 
anchor  in  the  harbor  from  which,  nearly  two  years 
before,  buoyant  with  youth  and  hope,  the  young  man 
had  departed.  He  could  not  raise  himself  in  his 
berth.  Even  his  sunken  and  faded  eye  could  not 
beam  with  animation,  as  he  heard  that  his  motlier  and 
liis  sister  stood  by  his  side.     He  had  come  home  pen- 


A  DYING  SON.  283 

niless  to  die.  Even  the  language  of  affection  could 
6nd  no  utterance  from  his  lip;?,  as  in  mute  despair,  he 
turned  his  eyes  to  the  still  more  despairing  looks  of 
those  he  loved. 

It  was  two  days,  I  think,  after  he  had  been  remov- 
ed to  his  mother's  room,  when  I  was  standing  by  his 
bedside.  It  was  as  bright  and  beautiful  an  afternoon 
as  ever  smiled  upon  this  globe.  He  was  lying  upon  his 
bed  as  silent  and  motionless  as  if  he  were  dead.  His 
mother,  with  her  head  leaning  upon  her  hand,  in  equal 
silence,  sat  by  his  side.  His  sister,  like  a  statue  con- 
gealed by  grief,  sat  by  the  window  looking  into  those 
clear  blue  depths  of  infinity,  into  which  her  agonized 
spirit  doubtless. wished  to  soar  and  to  find  rest.  Not 
a  word  was  uttered  as  I  entered  the  room.  A  gentle 
pressure  of  the  hand  was  the  only  recognition  of  my 
expressions  of  sympathy.  As  I  stood  in  silence,  look- 
ing upon  the  deep  lines  which  grief  had  traced  upon 
that  youthful  brow,  the  young  man  languidly  raised 
his  eyes,  and  without  the  movement  of  a  limb,  feebly 
and  slowly  articulated,  "  The — ship — is — sinking !" 
and  his  eye  was  fixed — and  he  was  dead. 

My  pen  can  trace  this  scene  of  domestic  anguish 
no  farther.  "  Wliy  "  perhaps  some  one  may  ask,  "do 
you  trace  it  so  far?  Why  relate  so  sad  a  story?" 
When  I  have  murmured  at  some  little  trial ;  when  I 
have  felt  dejected,  and  have  repined  in  view  of  some 
trifling  disappointment,  I  have  often  tliought  of  this 
grief,  and  felt  rebuked.  It  is  well  for  us  to  learn  a 
lesson  of  contentment  and  gratitude,  by  contemplating 
those  sorrows  which  are  desolating  our  globe,  and 
from  which  we  liave  been  mercifully  protected. 

John  S.  C.  Abbott. 


284  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

ANSWER  TO   PRAYER  LONG   DEFERRED. 

Half  a  century  past,  I  was  accustomed  to  frequent 
places  of  worship  where  the  houses  were  situated  in 
a  grove,  or  rather,  in  the  midst  of  the  trees  of  a  dense 
forest,  and  far  from  any  human  habitation.  Although 
the  meeting-houses,  as  they  were  then  called,  were 
frequently  unfurnished— a  mere  shell  without  ceil- 
ing— yet  there  was  a  solemnity  in  these  places  of 
worship  which  was  better  adapted  to  promote  devo- 
tion, than  all  the  most  splendid  achievements  of  archi- 
tecture. No  sombre  light  let  in  through  painted  win- 
dows ever  affected  my  mind  like  the  solemn  shade  and 
stillness  of  the  natural  growth  of  the  forest. 

On  a  certain  occasion,  when  the  Lord's  supper 
was  about  to  be  solemnized  in  one  of  these  humble 
churches,  I  went  early,  that  I  might  avoid  the  conver- 
sation and  dust  of  a  multitude  on  the  road,  and  might 
have  an  opportunity  of  solitary  meditation  under  the 
venerable  trees  which  encompassed  the  house  of  pray- 
er. I  thought  surely  that  I.  should  be  first  on  the 
ground ;  but  I  was  mistaken.  I  saw  an  elderly  gen- 
tleman, who  had  just  secured  his  horse  to  a  bough  of 
a  tree,  coming  towards  the  house  to  meet  me  ;  and 
upon  his  nearing  me,  I  recognized  an  old  acquaint- 
ance, at  whose  house  I  had  lodged  in  ray  journeyings 
more  than  once.  He  had  formerly  been  an  elder  in 
a  Presbyterian  church  of  some  note,  but  had  removed 
into  a  neighborhood  where  there  were  then  scarcely 
any  Presbyterians.  Travelling  ministers,  however, 
often  called  upon  him  and  preached  in  his  house,  or 
at  some  place  in  his  vicinity.  As  I  believed  him  to 
be  a  very  pious  man,  well  informed  and  zealous  for 


ANSWER   TO   PRAYER.  285 

the  truth,  I  was  pleased  to  meet  with  him  and  hold 
communion  Avith  him. 

After  some  general  remarks,  wc  got  upon  the  sub- 
ject of  the  efficacy  of  prayer  ;  and  as  I  Avas  young, 
and  he  was  aged  and  experienced,  I  was  glad  to  throw 
the  burden  of  the  conversation  on  him,  and  he  was 
not  unwilling  to  speak  on  a  subject  which  seemed  to 
lie  near  his  heart.  In  the  course  of  conversation,  he 
related  to  me  a  piece  of  his  own  experience.  He 
said  that  his  oldest  son,  who  was  a  lawyer  of  some 
eminence,  had  as  unblemished  a  moral  character  as 
any  man  in  the  land  ;  and  yet.  though  respectful  to 
religion,  he  never  had  manifested  any  serious  concern 
about  his  own  salvation.  "But,"  said  he,  "I  have 
liad  such  nearness  to  God,  and  such  liberty  in  prayer 
for  his  conversion,  that  1  believe  those  prayers  will  be 
answered  in  due  time,  whether  I  live  to  see  it  or  not. 
Indeed,"  said  he,  "on  one  occasion  I  am  persuaded 
that  God  gave  me  an  assurance  that  my  prayer  in  his 
behalf  would  be  answered." 

This,  I  confess,  appeared  to  me  somewhat  like  en- 
thusiasm, but  I  made  no  reply  ;  and  soon  our  conver- 
sation was  terminated  by  the  gathering  of  the  people. 
I  thought,  however,  that  I  would  remember  this  mat- 
ter, and  from  time  to  time  make  inquiry  respecting 
the  person  whose  conversion  was  so  confidently  ex- 
pected by  his  father.  Soon  after  this,  the  old  elder 
was  gathered  to  his  fathers,  and  died  in  faith  and 
peace.  -  But  residing  far  from  his  abode,  I  know  not 
the  particular  exercises  of  his  mind  as  he  approached 
the  borders  of  the  other  world.  For  some  years  I 
forgot  the  conversation,  and  made  no  inquiry  ;  but 
some  person  who  was  acquainted  with  the  family,  in- 


286  SKETCHES  FROM   LIFE. 

formed  me  that  after  his  father's  death,  this  son  fell 
into  habits  of  intemperance ;  that  in  fact  he  became 
a  mere  sot,  remaining  at  home  and  stupefying  himself 
with  alcoholic  drinks  every  day.  Such  a  case  ap- 
peared to  me  nearly  hopeless.  I  had  seldom  known 
a  man  thus  brought  under  the  power  of  strong  drink 
to  recover  himself.  I  now  thought  that  the  good  old 
father  had  been  deluded  by  a  lively  imagination :  and 
for  many  years  every  report  respecting  the  son  seemed 
to  render  the  case  more  hopeless. 

But  behold  the  truth  and  faithfulness  of  a  prayer- 
hearing  God.  See  an  example  of  the  efficacy  of  fer- 
vent and  importunate  prayer,  though  the  answer  was 
long  deferred.  This  man,  after  continuing  in  intem- 
perate habits  until  the  age  of  seventy  or  more,  became 
completely  reclaimed ;  and  not  only  delivered  from 
that  vice,  but  soundly  converted  to  God.  He  not 
only  gave  evidence  of  a  change,  but  appeared  to  be 
eminent  in  the  practice  of  piety.  At  this  time  he 
was  about  eighty  years  of  age.  How  wonderful  are 
the  ways  of  God.  His  faitlifulness  never  faileth ;  it 
reacheth  unto  the  clouds.  "Thy  faithfulness  is  unto 
all  generations."  "  0  that  men  would  praise  tlie  Lord 
for  his  goodness,  and  for  his  wonderful  works  to  the 
children  of  men."  "For  the  vision  is  yet  for  an  ap- 
pointed time ;  but  at  the  end  it  shall  speak,  and  not 
lie :  tliough  it  tarry,  wait  for  it,  because  it  will  surely 
come,  it  will  not  tarry.''     Hab.  2  :  3. 

Let  pious  parents  learn  never  to  give  over  -praying 
for  their  unconverted  children,  however  hopeless  the 
case  may  seem  to  be,  for  God  will  in  faithfulness  hear 
their  supplications,  and  answer  them  sooner  or  later 
in  one  way  or  another.  A.  a. 


A  PRAYIXG  SHOEMAKER.  287 

A  PRAYING   SHOEMAKER. 

Not  many  years  since,  there  was  a  poor  man  in 
the  village  where  I  lived,  who,  with  a  family  of  young 
children  and  a  wife  in  very  feeble  health,  found  it 
extremely  difficult  to  obtain  a  livelihood.  He  was  at 
length  compelled  to  work  by  the  week  for  a  shoe- 
dealer  in  the  city,  four  miles  from  the  village,  return- 
ing to  his  family  every  Saturday  evening,  and  leaving 
home  early  on  Monday  morning. 

He  usually  brought  home  the  avails  of  his  week's 
labor  in  provisions  for  the  use  of  his  family  during 
the  following  week  ;  but  on  one  cold  and  stormy  night 
in  the  depth  of  winter,  he  went  towards  his  Immble 
dwelling  with  empty  hands,  but  a  full  heart.  His  em- 
ployer had  declared  himself  unable  to  pay  him  a  penny 
that  night,  and  the  shoemaker,  too  honest  to  incur  a 
debt  without  knowing  that  he  should  be  able  to  can- 
cel it,  bent  his  weary  steps  homeward,  trusting  that 
He  who  hears  the  ravens  when  they  cry,  would  fill  the 
mouths  of  his  little  family.  He  knew  that  he  should 
find  a  warm  house  and  loving  hearts  to  receive  him, 
but  he  knew  too,  that  a  disappointment  awaited  them 
which  would  make  at  least  one  heart  ache. 

When  he  entered  his  cottage,  cold  and  wet  with 
the  rain,  he  saw  a  bright  fire,  brighter  faces,  and  a 
table  neatly  spread  for  the  anticipated  repast.  The 
teakettle  was  sending  forth  its  cloud  of  steam,  all 
ready  for  "  the  cup  which  cheers,  but  not  inebriates," 
and  a  pitcher  of  milk  which  had  been  sent  in  by  a 
kind  neighbor,  was  waiting  for  the  bread  so  anxiously 
expected  by  the  children.  The  sad  father  confessed 
his  poverty,  and  his  wife  in  tears  begged  him  to  make 


288  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

some  effort  to  procure  food  for  them  before  the  Sab- 
bath. He  replied  that  he  had  kiud  friends  in  the 
neighborhood,  who  he  knew  were  both  able  and  will- 
ing to  aid  him,  and  that  he  would  go  to  them  and  ask 
relief.  "But  first,"  said  he,  "let  us  ask  God  to  give 
us  our  daily  bread.  Prayer  avails  with  God  when 
we  ask  for  temporal  good,  as  well  as  when  we  im- 
plore spiritual  blessings.'*'  The  sorrowing  group  knelt 
around  the  family  altar,  and  while  the  father  was  en- 
treating fervently  for  the  mercies  they  so  much  need- 
ed, a  gentle  knocking  at  the  door  was  heard.  When 
the  prayer  was  ended  the  door  was  opened,  and  there 
stood  a  woman  in  the  "peltings  of  the  storm,"  who 
had  never  been  at  that  door  before,  though  she  lived 
only  a  short  distance  from  it.  She  had  a  napkin  in 
her  hand,  which  contained  a  large  loaf  of  bread  ;  and 
half  apologizing  for  offering  it,  said  she  had  uninten- 
tionally made  "a  larger  batch  of  bread"  than  usual 
that  day,  and  though  she  hardly  knew  why,  slie  thought 
it  might  be  acceptable  there. 

After  expressing  their  sincere  gratitude  to  the 
woman,  the  devout  shoemaker  and  his  wife  gave 
thanks  to  God  with  overflowing  hearts.  While  the 
little  flock  were  appeasing  their  hunger  with  the  nice 
new  bread  and  milk,  the  father  repaired  to  the  house 
where  I  was  an  inmate,  and  told  his  artless  tale  with 
streaming  eyes,  and  it  is  unnecessary  .to  say,  that  he 
returned  to  his  home  that  night  with  a  basket  heavily 
laden,  and  a  heart  full  of  gratitude  to  a  prayer-an- 
swering God.  '  c.  c. 


OLD  CHAIRS  AT   INTEREST.  28& 

OLD   CHAIRS   AT   INTEREST. 

Nobody  in  all  the  neighborhood  interested  me  like 

Mr. .    I  love  to  think  of  the  dear  old  gentleman. 

How  pleasant  was  it  to  run  into  his  bright  little  par- 
lor, and  sit  by  his  side,  hearing  him  talk,  or  talking 
to  him  ;  reading  to  him,  or  hearing  him  read  ;  asking 
questions,  or  listening  to  stories  of  old  times,  when 
lie  was  a  boy.  Though  his  frame  bore  the  frosts  and 
infirmities  of  threescore  years  and  ten,  they  had  not 
chilled  his  heart;  it  was  still  young  and  fresh,  and 
brimful  of  kindness.  It  also  held  his  purse-strings, 
so  that  from  the  little  parlor  streamed  substantial, 
blessings,  as  well  as  hearty  love  ;  and  it  happened 
that  I  had  occasion  to  know  how  often  they  found 
their  way  to  the  humble  lodgings  of  a  widow  and  her 
daughter. 

These  two  were  the  relics  of  a  past  generation, 
and  they  seemed  to  be  almost  strangers  amidst  the 
new  one  which  had  sprung  up  around  them.  They 
had,  in  a  measure,  outlived  their  connections,  their 
property,  their  early  friendships,  and  the  poor  make 
but  few  new  friends.  Few  cared  for  them,  and  they 
cared  for  few.  The  only  light  which  warmed  or 
cheered  them  was  the  setting  sun  of  days  gone  by. 
But  if  this  warmed  them,  it  could  not  feed  or  shelter 
them,  or  hinder  the  embarrassments  of  poverty,  had 
not  the  old  man's  purse  come»to  their  aid  ;  and  so  stat- 
edly did  he  eke  out  the  scanty  income  of  the  widow, 
that  I  sometimes  thought  he  was  likely  to  make  her 
believe  that  her  last  days  were  her  best  days.  I  used 
often  to  wonder  why  he  was  so  thoughtful  of  her  wants  : 
others  were  not,  and  what  claim  had  she  upon  him? 

Sketckes  13 


290  SKETCHES  FROM   LIFE. 

One  evening,  in  speaking  of  bis  early  struggles, 
he  said,  "  When  Mary  and  I  were  married,  we  were 
young  and  foolish,  for  we  had  nothing  to  be  married 
with ;  but  Mary  was  delicate,  and  I  thought  1  could 
take  care  of  her  best.  I  knew  I  had  a  stout  arm  and 
a  brave  heart  to  depend  upon.  We  rented  a  chamber 
and  went  to  housekeeping.  We  got  together  a  little 
furniture — a  t^able,  bedstead,  dishes— but  our  money 
failed  us  before  we  bought  the  chairs.  I  told  Mary 
she  must  turn  up  the  tub,  for  1  could  not  run  in  debt. 
No,  no.  It  was  not  long  before  our  rich  neighbor, 
Mrs.  M ,  found  us  out,  and  kindly  enough  she  sup- 
plied our  necessities  ;  half  a  dozen  chairs  were  added 
to  our  stock.  They  were  old  ones,  to  be  sure,  but  an- 
swered just  as  well  for  us.  I  shall  never  forget  the 
naw  face  those  chairs  put  on  our  snug  quarters — they 
never  looked  just  right  before.    The  tables  arc  turned 

with  Mrs.  M and  me  now :  she  has  become  a 

poor  widow,  but  she  shall  never  want  while  I  have 
any  thing,  never!"  cried  the  old  man,  with  a  beaming 
face.     "  1  don't  forget  those  old  chairs,'"' 

Ah,  now  the  secret  Avas  out.  It  was  the  interest  of 
the  old  chairs  which  maintained  the  poor  widow.  She 
was  living  upon  an  income  drawn  from  the  interest 
and  compound  interest  of  a  little  friendly  act  done 
fifty  years  before,  and  it  sufficed  for  herself  and 
daughter. 

How  beautiful  is  it. to  see  how  God  blesses  the 
operation  of  his  great  moral  law,  "  Love  thy  neigh- 
bor :"  and  we  should  oftener  see  it,  could  we  look 
into  the  hidden  paths  of  life,  and  lind  that  it  is  not 
self-interest,  not  riches,  not  fame,  that  binds  heart  to 
heart.     The  simple  power  of  a  friendly  act  can  do 


OLD  CHAIRS  AT   INTEREST.  291 

far  more  than  they.  It  is  these,  the  friendly  acts,  the 
neighborly  kindnesses,  the  Christian  sympathy  of  one 
towards  another,  which  rob  wealth  of  its  power  to 
curse,  extract  the  bitter  from  the  cap  of  sorrow,  and 
open  wells  of  gladness  in  desolate  homes.  AVe  do  not 
always  see  the  golden  links  shining  in  the  chain  of 
human  events ;  but  they  arc  there — 0  yes,  they  arc 
there,  and  happy  is  he  who  feels  their  gentle  but  irre- 
sistible influence. 

Do  we  not  sometimes  see  people  blest  through 
channels  new  and  unexpected,  in  ways  and  times 
which  they  thought  not  of,  and  at  seasons  when  the 
blessing  came  like  an  angel  unawares?  We  wonder, 
for  we  know  not  why  or  wherefore  it  comes.  To  us 
there  may  seem  no  natural  connection  between  the 
spring  and  the  stream,  the  giver  and  the  gift,  the 
good  and  our  own  desert.  Could  we  look  farther 
and  deeper,  we  might  possibly  find  it  to  be  the  com- 
pound interest  of  some  long-forgotten  kindness  or 
affectionate  counsel,  of  some  self-denying  act  or  fer- 
vent prayer.  To  us  they  had  as  it  were  ceased  to  be, 
but  it  was  only  as  the  seed  hidden  in  the  earth,  which 
might  spring  up  hereafter  and  bear  precious  fruit. 

Are  we  not  our  brothers'  keepers  ;  and  is  not  this 
our  Christian  brotherhood  ?  Shall  not  he  that  hath 
much  give  to  him  that  hath  little?  From  our  abun 
dance  shall  we  not  help  our  neighbor  in  his  extrem- 
ity ?  Shall  not  our  ready  sympathy  lighten  the  cares 
and  dispel  the  gloom  of  our  fellow-traveller?  Shall 
not  the  spiritual  wants  of  our  less  favored  brothers 
incite  us  to  fresh  acts  of  self-denial,  if  haply  we  can 
send  to  them  the  bread  of  life?  Thus  in  the  moral 
government  of  the  Father  of  our  spirits,  is  there  not 


29-2  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

preparing  a  treasury  of  means,  wherein  are  created 
interests  which  may  run  on  through  years  or  a  series 
of  years,  bringing  back  blessings  when  we  least  ex- 
pect them,  and  oftentimes  enriching  our  children  and 
our  children's  children,  in  generations  to  come? 

H.  c.  K.  ' 


THE   CHRISTMAS-TREE. 

It  was  Christmas  eve,  and  it  was  a  bitter,  bitter 
night.  The  snow  had  been  falling  steadily  all  day, 
and  towards  night  the  wind  had  risen,  till  it  was 
really  fearful  to  hear  it  moaning  and  sighing  and 
howling  around  the  house,  as  it  tore  up  the  masses  of 
snow,  and  flung  them  against  the  windows,  or  threw 
them  into  great  heaps,  like  miniature  hills  and  moun- 
tains. 

Many  an  old  lady,  as  she  sat  knitting  before  her 
comfortable  fire,  on  hearing  a  louder,  fiercer  howl  of 
the  wind,  exclaimed,  "  God  pity  the  poor  this  bitter 
night !"  But  how  does  God  pity  the  poor  ?  He  does 
not  send  down  bread  and  meat  and  warm  clothing 
from  heaven  to  supply  their  wants,  but  he  puts  it  into 
the  hearts  of  their  brethren  and  sisters  of  the  human 
family  to  "visit  them  in  their  affliction."  Ah,  "the 
poor  ye  have  always  with  you,  and  when  ye  will,  ye 
may  do  them  good." 

The  moaning  and  howling  of  the  wind  passed 

almost  unheeded  in  the  brilliant  parlor  of  Mr.  M , 

where  a  group  of  happy  children  were  assembled 
around  the  Christmas-tree,  whose  top  reached  to  the 
lofty  ceiling,  and  whose  branches,  illumined  by  many 


THE  CHRISTMAS-TREE.  293 

gay-colored  wax  tapers,  hung  laden  wit4i  tokens  of 
aifection  from  one  member  of  the  family  to  another. 

It  would  take  me  a  long  time  to  enumerate  the 
beautiful  things  which  were  on  the  Christmas-tree. 
There  were  presents  for  grandmamma  and  father  and 
mother,  made  by  busy  little  fingers  ;  there  were  toys 
and  candies,  and  baskets  and  boxes  ;  there  were  dolls 
seated  among  the  branches ;  and  hanging  from  the 
end  of  some  of  the  boughs  were  little  purses,  with 
half-dollars  in  them — presents  from  grandmamma  to 
each  of  the  children. 

After  the  presents  had  been  distributed,  and  suf- 
ficiently admired,  and  thanks  and  kisses  had  been 
exchanged,  the  children  engaged  in  a  merry  game,  in 
the  midst  of  which  little  Ellen,  who  had  been  running 
through  the  folding-doors,  came  hastily  up  to  her 
motlier,  and  whispered  in  her  ear, 

"  Mamma,  there  is  a  poor  little  girl  out  in  the  hall 
by  the  stove ;  she  seems  almost  frozen,  and  when  I 
offered  her  some  of  my  candy,  she  thanked  me,  but 
said  she  would  rather  have  a  piece  of  bread.  What  a 
strange  child,  mamma,  to  like  bread  better  than  candy." 

"  Perhaps,  if  you  had  had  nothing  to  eat  all  day, 
you  would  like  bread  better  than  candy  too,  Ellen," 
said  her  mother,  rising  to  go  and  speak  to  the  child, 
the  children  all  following  her  into  the  hall.  "  Where 
do  you  live,  my  child?"  she  asked.  "In  Fisher's 
lane,  ma'am."  "Are  your  parents  living?"  "Fa- 
ther's been  dead  a  year,  ma'am,  and  mother's  lying 
very  sick:  she  thinks  she  is  going  to  die."  "Did 
your  mother  work  when  she  was  well?"  "Oh  yes, 
ma'am,  and  I  never  had  to  beg  a  bit,  till  Bince  moth- 
er's  been  so  ill."     "  And  why  did  you  come  out,  this 


294  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

stormy  night?"  "  Oh,  I've  had  to  tak6  care  of  moth- 
er and  the  little  ones  all  day ;  and  to-night  the  land- 
lord— he's  a  very  hard  man,  ma'am — came  in  and  said, 
if  the  rent  was  not  paid  to-night,  he  would  put  us  all 
in  the  street,  for  another  family  wanted  the  room ; 
and  mother  said  there  was  no  way  but  for  me  to  come 
out  and  try  to  raise  the  rent." 

"How  much  do  you  owe?"   asked  Mr.  M . 

"  Half  a  dollar  a  week  we  owe,  for  four  weeks,  sir." 
"Have  you  any  wood?"  "Only  some  bits  I  pick  up 
about  the  street,  sir."  "  Have  you  had  food  to-day  ?" 
"  Some  bits  of  dry  bread,  sir ;  I  could  not  leave  moth- 
er, to  beg  food  to-day." 

A  greater  contrast  could  hardly  have  been  pre- 
sented, than  that  between  the  miserably  clad,  half- 
frozen,  half-starved  little  beggar-girl,  and  the  group  of 
bright,  happy,  gaily-dressed  children,  with  their  hands 
full  of  beautiful  gifts ;  and  a  tear  stood  on  the  poor 
child's  cheek,  as  she  looked  into  the  cheerful,  warm 
parlor,  and  thought  of  the  cold,  dark  room  at  home, 
and  the  sick  mother,  and  starving  little  ones  there. 

All  the  time  Mrs.  M — ^-  was  questioning  the  poor 
child,  little  Ellen  was  pulling  at  her  mother's  dress  ; 
and  in  every  pause  in  the  conversation,  she  whisper- 
ed, "Mamma,  may  I  give  her  my  half-dollar?  Do, 
mamma,  let  me  give  her  my  half-dollar," 

The  children  soon  perceived  that  their  father  was 
putting  on  his  great-coat  and  socks,  and  tying  up  his 
face,  as  if  preparing  for  an  encounter  with  the  storm. 
Crowding  round  him,  they  exclaimed,  "  Why,  papa, 
dear  papa,  are  you  going  out  this  dreadful  night?" 

Their  father  said  to  them,  in  a  low  tone,  "Do  you 
think  we  could  sleep  comfortably  to-night,  children, 


THE  CHRISTMAS-TREE. 


295 


or  enjoy  our  warm  fire,  if  we  thought  a  sick  woman 
and  her  little  children  were  perishing  in  the  street? 
It  will  not  do  to  trust  this  child  with  money ;  but  I 
must  go  with  her,  and  see  if  her  story  is  true,  and 
their  wants  must  be  relieved." 

"  Then,  papa,  you  will  take  my  half-dollar  to  help 
pay  the  rent,  will  you  not?" 

"And  mine!"  "And  mine!"  "And  mine!"  shouted 
other  little  voices. 

"  Yes,  children,  you  shall  all  have  the  pleasure  and 


vvv  ^. 


the  hcjiejit  of  giving"  said  their  father.    And  ordering 
Patrick  to  take  his  hand-sled  full  of  wood,  and  a  basksi 


296  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

of  provisions,  Mr.  M started  out  with  the  child, 

who  was  now  wrapped  in  a  comfortable,  warm  shawl. 

The  children  were  allowed  to  sit  up  till  their 
father  came  home,  and  much  gratified  were  they  to 
hear  that  the  poor  child  had  told  the  truth,  and  that 
their  father  had  not  left  the  family  till  they  had  been 
made  quite  comfortable,  and  Patrick  had  brought  a 
physician  to  see  the  sick  woman. 

There  were  at  least  two  happy  homes  in  that  vil- 
lage on  Christmas-day.  "  Go  thou,  and  do  likewise," 
and  you  shall  receive  the  blessing  of  Him  who  has 
said,  "Inasmuch  as  ye  have  done  it  unto  one  of  the 
least  of  these,  ye  have  done  it  unto  me."  l.  l. 


THE   LITTLE   WORD  NO. 

Last  winter  I  spent  a  short,  time  in  a  pleasant 
family.  They  were  wealthy,  influential,  and  so  far  as 
I  could  judge,  a  Christian  family.  The  father  had  at 
different  times  occupied  a  prominent  place  in  the  leg- 
islative and  judiciary  departments  of  his  state.  He 
held  office  in  the  church  ;  he  had  erected  and  pre- 
served through  years  of  trial  that  made  him  prema- 
turely gray,  the  family  altar ;  and  as  one  who  knew 
him  well  remarked,  it  was  doubtful  if  a  shadow  could 
be  cast  upon  his  character.  He  was  honorable  and 
upright  in  business,  courteous,  kind,  and  forbearing 
in  his  intercourse  with  the  world.  The  mother,  an 
estimable  woman,  professed  herself  willing  to  do  and 
suffer  for  Christ,  hoping  to  die  and  reign  with  him. 
The  only  daughter  was  a  mild,  lovely  girl ;  but  the 
sons — and  here  was  a  mystery. 


THE  LITTLE  WORD  NO.  297 

The  eldest,  a  child  of  uncommon  promise,  entered 
at  an  early  age  upon  a  vicious  career  of  drinking, 
gambling,  and  licentiousness,  which  ended  in  forgery 
and  crime,  until  he  was  cast  out  of  the  family  circle 
as  one  unknown,  and  after  a  terra  in  prison,  found  his 
home  in  one  of  the  vilest  haunts  in  a  southern  city. 
The  second,  following  in  his  footsteps,  was  awaiting 
in  the  county  jail  a  trial  that  might  sentence  him  for 
years  to  the  state's  prison.  Children  of  prayer,  of 
pious  teaching  and  example,  the  fact  was  to  me  inex- 
plicable. I  expressed  my  wonder  in  the  hearing  of 
an  old  man  who  had  known  them  from  birth.  Said 
he,  '■  I  can  explain  in  a  few  woi'ds ;  it  is  from  the 
father's  want  of  power  to  say,  '  Xo.' '' 

When  they  were  beautiful  children,  and  it  needed 
but  a  word  to  guide  them,  he  neglected  to  say.  No. 
As  years  rolled  on,  and  he  noticed  the  first  steps  in 
the  way  of  wrong-doing,  he  excused  them  on  the  plea 
of  youthful  exuberance  of  spirits.  And  when  they 
went  too  far,  and  he  strove  to  curb  them,  the  boys,  by 
caressing,  arguing,  or  bickering,  had  their  own  way, 
for  it  grieved  him  to  say,  No.  In  after-years,  when 
their  souls  were  blood-stained  with  crime,  when  with 
all  the  yearnings  of  a  father's  heart  he  took  t'/cm 
again  to 'his  home,  striving  by  gentleness  to  win  them 
to  the  way  of  life,  he  dared  not  say,  No. 

Christian  parent,  learn  to  pronounce,  at  proper 
times,'thi3  simple  word,  No.  On  it,  under  God,  may 
depend  the  welfare  and  happiness  of  yjour  children  for 
time  and  eternity.  '  Day. 


U^ 


298  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

AUNT   SALLY'S  BIBLE. 

"  Fanny,"'  said  James  B — -,  a  fine  little  fellow  of 
seven,  as  he  wound  his  arm  around  his  cousin's  neck, 
and  drew  her  ear  close  to  his  red  lips,  "  aunt  Sally 
will  tell  us  a  story."  She  had  chosen  the  story  o 
Moses.  She  commenced  with  the  infantile  beauty  of 
the  babe  bound  to  the  mother  by  imperishable  ties 
then  depicted  the  strange  decree  of  the  wicked  king 
the  efforts  made  to  save  the  darling ;  the  preservatior 
of  the  tiny  cradle  on  the  banks  of  the  mighty  Nile; 
the  guiding  hand  that  led  the  princess  to  the  very 
spot ;  the  workings  of  her  heart,  that  led  to  the  adop- 
tion of  the  babe,  and  embalmed  her  name  for  all  future 
ages ;  the  providence  that  chose  the  motlier  for  the 
nurse ;  the  power  that  kept  him  pure  amid  the  vices 
of  a  profligate  court,  and  fitted  him  to  guide  the  chosen 
of  God ;  and  so  on,  step  by  step,  till  he  received,  amid 
the  thunders  of  Sinai,  the  ten  commandments  of  the 
living  God. 

Fanny  was  silent,  now  in  delight,  now  with  her  lip 
quivering,  and  her  bright  eye  filled  with  tears.  As 
aunty  finished,  she  said  timidly,  "  Will  you  give  me 
your  Bible  V  "  Have  you  no  Bibles  at  home,  Fanny  ?" 
She  hesitated  a  moment  at  such  a  question,  and  then 
replied,  "  Why,  yes  ;  papa  and  mamma  have  big  Bibles 
to  read  in,  morning  and  evening,  and  dear  little  ones 
to  carry  to  church,  with  roses  on  the  covers  and  shin- 
ing clasps,  besides  Eddy's  and  mine  that  are  full  of 
pictures  ;  but  we  have  no  Bible  like  yoxirsP 

There  seems  to  be  an  error  in  teaching  children 
tlic  Scriptures.  There  are  fathers  and  mothers  whose 
home-altar  is  fragrant  with  the  incense  of  heaven  ; 


OUR  FAMILY-MEETING.  299 

who  pray  that  their  children  may  tread  the  highway 
of  holiness,  and  gem  the  Saviour's  brow  ;  who  see  that 
the  Bible  is  early  placed  in  the  hands  of  the  little 
one — that  his  eye  daily  follows  over  a  portion  of 
sacred  truth — that  he  commits  the  given  number  of 
verses  to  repeat  in  a  Sunday-school,  and  feel  that 
their  whole  duty  is  performed;  and  some  more  in- 
dulgent, like  Fanny's  mamma,  procure  Bibles  richly 
inlaid  with  arabesque  and  gold  ;  but  how  few  are 
there  who,  like  aunt  Sally,  study  the  heart  till  tliey 
know  what  chord  responds  with  sweetest  music  to 
their  skilful  touch,  and  then  choosing  an  hour  cluster- 
ing with  golden  associations,  when  the  waves  of  pas- 
sion are  at  rest,  impress,  with  sweet  simplicity  and 
truthful  earnestness,  on  that  yielding  heart,  soft  as 
wax  but  as  enduring  as  marble,  the  story  of  Jesus,  of 
Joseph,  Moses,  Samuel,  and  a  host  of  worthies  now 
surrounding  the  throne  of  God.  Thus  taught,  they 
reverence  the  truths  of  the  Bible,  and  it  becomes  to 
tliem  a  storehouse  more  precious  than  their  richest  toys. 
Fond  father,  watching  the  unfolding  charms  of 
your  precious  child — young  mother,  nursing  a  golden 
blossom  of  immortality  for  heaven  on  thy  bosom,  go 
thou  and  do  likewise.  Day. 


OUR   FAMILY-MEETING. 

In  a  secluded  spot  amid  the  rough  New  Hampshire 
hills  stands  an  old  farm-house,  the  home  of  our  early 
years.  Around  that  spot  cluster  many  tender  recol- 
lections ;  but  dearest  of  them  all,  is  that  of  our  family- 
meeting. 


300  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

As  often  as  the  shadows  of  the  Sabbath  sunset 
lengthened  on  the  plain,  did  the  voice  of  an  honored 
parent  call  us  to  the  meeting.  Cheerfully  laying 
aside  our  oooks  and  papers,  we  gathered  in  a  family 
circle.  Father,  mother,  child,  each  was  in  his  place. 
All  was  still  except  the  slow  ticking  of  the  clock  be- 
hind the  door. 

Then  began  our  interview,  and  each  in  turn,  from 
the  youngest,  who,  with  his  mother's  help,  could  just 
repeat  the  text,  to  the  eldest,  rehearsed  some  portion 
of  the  discourses  preached  during  the  day.  After- 
wards the  oft-repeated  questions  of  the  catechism 
were  asked,  and  the  familiar  answers  recited. 

The  shades  of  twilight  gathered  gently,  and  the 
hour  seemed  indeed  holy  time.  Affection  ruled  in 
every  heart,  and  each  was  willing  unreservedly  to 
express  his  feelings.  The  moment  so  favorable  was 
improved,  and  tenderly  the  father  asked  each  child  of 
his  hopes  or  fears,  his  interest  in  the  Saviour's  love. 
Then  all  knelt  in  prayer. 

Years  have  passed.  Those  children  have  been 
called  to  leave  their  home.  Yet  the  influence  of  those 
hallowed  hours  has  been  with  them,  and  guarded  all 
their  youthful  steps.  Many  of  them,  through  the  in- 
strumentality, it  may  be,  of  these  seasons,  now  rejoice 
in  the  hope  that  they  have  passed  from  death  to  life. 

Christian  parents,  gather  your  household  daily  at 
the  family  altar  before  the  throne  of  grace,  and  0, 
speak  tenderly,  earnestly  to  your  little  ones,  telling 
them  of  their  relattons  and  obligations  to  God,  of  the 
guilt  of  their  sin  and  their  need  of  a  Saviour,  of  all 
the  events  of  life  ;  on  these  will  probably  cluster  their 
earliest,  latest,  fondest  memories.  w.  h.  k. 


A  VISIT  TO  MY  BIRTHPLACE.  301 

A  VISIT   TO   MY  BIRTHPLACE. 

Through  the  kind  invitation  of  the  present  occu- 
pants, I  was  again  visiting  that  dear  old  parsonage, 
and  permitted,  after  an  absence  of  years,  to  roam 
through  those  familiar  scenes  of  childhood. 

That  great  kitchen,  how  changed !  Yet  I  could 
see  it,  as  in  days  of  yore,  with  its  huge  fireplace, 
around  which  clustered  so  many  endeared  and  vener- 
able forms  on  Sabbath  noons,  when  they  resorted 
thither  to  fill  their  foot-stoves,  and  perchance  share 
the  hospitalities  of  the  minister's  family.  Their  loved 
faces  have  long  since  been  laid  in  the  dust,  but  I 
seemed  to  see  them  still.  The  old-fashioned  dressers 
had  given  place  to  modern  conveniences.  Paper  and 
paint  had  renovated  its  walls.  Even  the  old  "  social 
library"  case,  which  from  my  earliest  recollection 
stood  out  in  bold  relief  against  the  ceiling,  had  been 
removed.  The  little  shoe-closet,  which  used  to  con- 
tain such  a  motley  assortment  for  all  ages  and  sizes, 
that  too  was  gone ;  but  in  imagination  I  could  see 
them  all. 

Next  came  the  sitting-room.  0,  what  tender  rec- 
ollections cluster  about  that  room.  There  wc  were 
wont  to  gather  at  the  morning  and  evening  sacrifice, 
which  daily  arose  like  sweet  incense  from  the  family 
altar.  There  was  the  place  where  our  father  read 
and  prayed ;  there  the  corner  where  mother  sat ;  and 
there  the  cradle's  place,  which  for  so  many  years  was 
never  absent — but  all  were  gone.  Even  the  old  clock 
was  missing  from  the  corner,  and  its  place  looked 
strange. 

The  parlor  too  was  no  longer  the  "  east-room." 


302  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

A  rich-toned  piano  sent  forth  sweet  sounds  from  the 
place  formerly  occupied  by  the  chintz-covered  sofa. 
The  fireplace  no  longer  displayed  the  shining  brasses, 
in  rubbing  which  my  own  hands  liad  so  often  ached  ; 
other  figures  had  taken  the  place  of  the  old  familiar 
roses  upon  the  carpet,  and  all  was  new,  and  elegant, 
and  strange. 

I  would  gladly  have  sought  the  chambers  alone, 
that  my  thoughts  might  once  more  dwell  upon  the 
treasured  memories  of  the  past.  There  was  tlie  cham- 
ber where  my  brothers  slept ;  there  the  rooms  in  which 
we  six  sisters  lodged,  with  the  door  between.  How 
often  was  that  door  left  open,  that  our  conversation 
might  be  carried  far  into  the  niglit,  and  all  our  girl- 
ish plans  of  usefulness  or  amusement  discussed.  How 
I  wished  just  once  to  rearrange  all  that  new  furniture, 
and  set  the  bureau,  and  bed,  and  chairs,  and  desk  all 
as  they  used  to  be,  and  see  if  it  would  seem  my  own 
old  chamber  once  more. 

The  spare  chamber  too,  though  tasteful  and  nice, 
looked  less  dear  to  me  than  would  the  snow-white 
counterpane  and  toilet-cover,  the  great  "  easy-chair," 
and  the  little  gilt  looking-glass  of  former  years. 

We  entered  my  father's  study.  There  were  stud- 
ied and  written  the  sermons  which  for  more  than  fifty 
years  were  dispensed  as  purei  beaten  oil  from  yonder 
sanctuary.  There  many  of  the  sons  and  daughters  of 
affliction  had  resorted  for  advice  and  consolation ;  and 
there  many  inquiring  what  they  must  do  to  be  saved, 
had  been  guided  to  "the  Lamb  of  God,  who  taketh 
away  the  sin  of  the  world."  But  the  old  library, 
with  its  great  mysterious-looking  tomes,  had  disap- 
peared ■  new  volumes  in  rich  bindings  had  taken  the 


A  VISIT  TO  MY  BIRTHPLACE.  303 

])lacc  of  that  lon^  row  of  massive  folios  in  their  black 
leather  covers.  The  little  desk  was  gone,  and  the 
modern  study-table  and  study-chair  were  there,  in- 
stead of  the  familiar  objects  of  my  youthful  days. 

I  would  have  lingered  long  amid  the  tender  asso- 
ciations connected  with  my  mother's  chamber.  There 
we  were  all  born — eleven  of  us.  There,  most  of  the 
sickness  of  the  family  had  been  experienced  ;  and 
there  healing  mercy  had  been  sought  and  bestowed. 
In  tliat  corner  stood  the  bed,  and  there  the  high 
•'  case  of  drawers  ;"  and  there,  just  beyond,  is  a  door — 
it  opened  into  a  little  sanctuary,  a  sacred  retreat — a 
'holy  of  holies"  it  seemed  to  me.  IIow  it  recalled 
the  times  when  mother  was  missing,  and  none  thought 
of  intruding  farther  than  to  see  the  door  was  shut.  If 
sickness  or  trouble  came,  if  death  of  those  near  and 
dear,  or  if  peculiar  trials  were  to  be  borne,  or  peculiar 
blessings  sought,  how  silently  we  noticed  the  absence, 
and  then  the  return,  with  serenity  and  cheerfulness 
and  a  heavenly  unction,  from  the  scenes  of  that  inner 
temple.  And  then  who  of  us  could  not  recall  the 
time  when  we  had  there  bowed  the  knee  loith  her;  as 
on  birthdays,  eve  of  expected  absence  from  home,  or 
when  guilty  of  misconduct,  we  had  tliere  been  com- 
mended to  the  hearer  and  answerer  of  prayer.  Were 
I  to  choose  a  boon  for  my  own  little  ones,  rather  far 
would  I  ask  for  them  that  closet,  Avith  its  precious  in- 
(luences,  than  the  possession  of  the  noblest  halls  of 
wealth  or  fame. 

God's  mercies  to  that  household  have  been  great. 
The  angel  of  death  has  never  yet  been  permitted  to 
cross  that  threshold.  Parents  and  children  still  live 
an  unbroken  band,  and  thouirh  scattered  from  beneath 


304  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

the  paternal  roof,  he  who  for  half  a  century  occupied 
that  old  parsonage,  still  lives  to  offer  the  prayer  of 
faith  for  his  successors  in  the  ministry,  and  his  chil- 
dren and  children's  children.  Selina. 


LOG-CABIN   MEMORIES. 

There  is  great  and  lasting  power  in  faithful  exhor- 
tation. I  have  a  case  in  my  own  experience,  yet  fresh 
in  my  memory  after  a  period  of  forty-three  years.  I 
was  twelve  years  old  when  the  occurrence  which  I  am 
going  to  describe  took  place. 

My  father  had  removed  his  family  from  the  state 
of  Vermont  into  the  western  wilderness,  in  what  at 
that  time  was  called,  "  The  Holland  Purchase."  The 
settlement  consisted  of  ten  or  fifteen  families,  occupy- 
ing a  space  five  or  six  miles  square.  We  had  no  sanc- 
tuary and  no  clergyman ;  and  such  was  the  neglect  of 
sacred  things,  that  it  used  often  to  be  facetiously 
remarked  by  the  people,  that  "Sunday  had  not  yet 
crossed  the  Genesee  river."  After  a  time  a  few  pro- 
fessed Christians  came  and  settled  in  the  neighbor- 
hood. Religious  meetings  began  to  be  held  in  the 
log-cabin  of  a  pious  deacon.  In  these  Sabbath  assem- 
blies, though  destitute  of  a  minister,  except  at  long- 
intervals,  the  greatest  decorum  was  always  observed. 
Songs  of  praise  w^ere  sung,  prayers  were  offered,  and 
the  Bible  was  read.  Commonly  a  sermon  was  also 
read  from  a  printed  volume.  After  the  service  was 
brought  nearly  to  a  close,  a  certain  pious  layman 
sometimes  added  a  fervent  exhortation. 


LOG-CABIN  MEMORIES.  .    305 

One  of  these  lay-sermons  my  memory  retains  after 
so  long  a  period  with  perfect  vividness.  It  was  found- 
ed on  that  parable  of  the  rich  man  .who  said  to  his 
soul,  "  Soul,  thou  hast  much  goods  laid  up  for  many 
years  ;  eat,  drink,  and  be  merry."  The  speaker  gave 
a  touching  narrative  of  what  had  happened  in  the 
place  of  his  former  residence.  He  commenced  by 
describing  the  town  where  the  occurrence  had  taken 
place,  and  mentioning  the  name  of  the  man  and  his 
physician.  This  physician,  while  riding  his  accus- 
tomed rounds,  passed  the  newly  erected  dwelling  of 
a  thrifty  farmer.  As  he  looked  up  he  saw  the  owner 
of  the  house  upon  its  roof  removing  some  fragments  of 
shingles,  and  picking  up  a  few  scattered  nails  that  had 
been  left  there  by  the  mechanics.  The  doctor  paused, 
sitting  upon  his  horse,  and  addressed  a  friendly  salu- 
tation to  the  man  upon  the  roof,  and  congratulated 
him  on  the  completion  of  such  a  beautiful  and  com- 
modious dwelling.  "Thank  you,"  replied  the  farmer  ; 
"it  is  a  good  house,  it  is  all  that  I  want;  I  have 
labored  hard  for  many  years  to  pay  for  my  farm,  and 
acquire  the  means  of  building  this  house.  I  have  just 
attained  what  I  have  so  long  been  striving  for.  Now 
I  mean  to  take  life  easy,  and  enjoy  it."  "  I  hope  you 
will  live  long  to  enjoy  it,"  replied  the  physician. 
"Thank  you,"  rejoined  the  farmer.  Then  making 
their  mutual  adieus,  the  doctor  rode  on  his  way.  He 
had  not  gotten  out  of  sight  before  his  attention  was 
arrested  by  a  voice  calling  after  him,  "  Doctor,  doctor, 
come  back ;  Mr.  Winslow  has  fallen  from  the  house, 
and  we  are  afraid  he  is  dead."  The  doctor  returned. 
The  man  who  had  just  been  congratulating  himself  on 
having  secured  a  happy  life  for  many  years,  had  gone 


306  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

to  render  his  account  to  God.  That  hour  his  soul  had 
been  required  of  him. 

Forty  years  after  this,  in  travelling  through  Ver. 
mont,  I  found  myself  on  the  outside  of  a  stage-coach, 
passing  through  the  very  township  where  this  event 
had  occurred.  The  name  of  the  place  brought  every 
thing  fresh  to  my  memory.  While  reflecting  upon  the 
influence  of  the  narrative  on  my  own  mind,  and  the 
probability  that  it  had  been  remembered  by  every 
person  living  that  was  then  present,  we  suddenly 
drove  up  to  a  country  inn  where  the  identical  name 
of  the  man  that  so  suddenly  perished,  appeared  plainly 
painted  on  the  sign.  The  letters  were  legible,  but  dim 
with  age.  Was  that  name  painted  there  before  the 
house  was  finished?  Or  was  it  the  name  of  his  son? 
Did  he  die  thus  unexpectedly?  How  many  may  there 
have  been  deeply,  solemnly,  and  savingly  impressed 
by  that  strilving  providence?  How  many  others  that 
knew  the  circumstances  may  have  related  them  as  I 
heard  them  related?  How  many  may  have  thus  re- 
tained the  impression  for  more  than  forty  years?  How 
long  may  this  narrative  live  now  in  a  printed  form  ? 
How  many  colporteurs,  and  other  pious  laymen,  may 
be  incited  by  it  to  treasure  up  affecting  and  solemn 
illustrations  of  gospel  truth,  and  utter  them  on  suita- 
ble occasions  to  listening,  dying  men?  How  many 
will  read  this  story,  and  be  influenced  by  it? 

Reader,  if  you  are  a  worldly  man,  let  me  beg  of 
you  to  ponder  its  import  in  application  to  yourself. 
Most  men  who  have  succeeded  in  the  world,  or  who 
deem  themselves  near  to  success,  are  precisely  in  this 
condition.  They  are  counting  on  years  of  enjoyment. 
Nor  do  they  really  rest  on  any  other  hopes  as  a  source 


LOG-CABIN  MEMORIES.  307 

of  happiness.  The  Psalmist  describes  them  with  great 
truth  and  accuracy.  He  calls  them  "  men  of  the  world, 
who  have  their  portion  m  this  life."  The  folly  of  such 
a  limiting  of  your  hopes  to  this  world  is  amazing.  It 
is  especially  so,  when  you  admit  that  there  is  a  state 
of  eternal  blessedness  or  eternal  misery  depending 
upon  the  course  you  pursue  in  this  life.  God  said  to 
tlie  worldling,  "  Thou  fool,  tliis  night  thy  soul  shall  be 
required  of  thee;  then  wiiosc  shall  those  things  be 
which  thoa  hast  provided?"  Here  our  Saviour  leaves 
the  narrative,  and  makes  this  faithful  application  ;  "So 
is  he  that  layeth  up  treasure  for  himself,  and  is  not 
rich  towards  God." 

The  most  solemn  and  aifecting  consideration,  how- 
ever, suggested  by  the  narrative,  and  brought  to  view 
in  the  parable  that  gave  rise  to  the  exhortation  refer- 
red to,  is  the  sudden  and  resistless  character  of  the 
call:  '"Thy  soul  shall  be  required  of  thee."  While- 
you  are  setting  your  heart  upon  your  gains,  and  mak- 
ing earth  your  portion,  God  may  be  saying  to  you, 
'•Thou  fool,  this  night  thy  soul  shall  be  required  of 
thee."  Some  fatal  disease,  or  some  messenger  of  death, 
may  be  even  now  commissioned  and  on  its  way  to  re- 
quire your  soul.  Unseen  hands  may  be  tolling  your 
funeral  knell. 

Restless  worldling,  list ;  in  vain 

Shall  thy  death-knell  sadly  toll? 
Why  so  busy  with  thy  gain? 

God  demandeth  back  thy  soul. 

"What  availeth  all  thy  store  ? 

Thou  art  hastening  to  thy  goal : 
Death  is  standing  at  the  door; 

God  demandeth  back  thv  soul. 


308 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 


Who  shall  then  thy  gaiu  possess, 
When  the  waves  of  terror  roll 

O'er  thee  in  thy  deep  distress? 
God  demandeth  back  thy  soul. 

Restless  worldling,  bend  thy  knee ; 

Once  again  the  bell  doth  toll : 
The  arm  of  vengeance  lifted  see, 

God  this  night  demands  thy  soul. 


JOHN  AND  Ills  COUSIN.  309 


RELTGIOX  IN   SOCIETY 


JOHN   AND  HIS  COUSIN. 

When  John  was  seventeen,  he  was  the  only  one  of 
liis  father's  family  who  had  not  professed  faith  in 
Christ.  There  he  stood  alone,  the  eldest  of  four  chil- 
dren, surrounded  by  his  family  and  pious  relations, 
hating  religion — as  rebellious  and  stiff-necked  as  the 
Israelites  of  old  whom  God  overthrew  in  the  wilder- 
ness. He  had  no  sympathies  in  common  with  his  rel- 
atives ;  they  were  zealously  pursuing  one  course,  he 
with  equal  earnestness  another  ;  and  he  turned  from 
them,  and  sought  intercourse  with  those  like-minded 
with  himself. 

At  this  juncture,  Mary  M his  cousin  arrived 

from  New  England,  and  spent  some  months  in  the 
family.  John  hailed  the  event  with  delight.  She  was 
at  the  age  of  sixteen,  beautiful  in  person,  interesting 
in  her  manners,  and  as  gay  as  himself.  "  Now,''"  thought 
he,  "  I  have  one  associate,  if  the  religious  ones  don't 
get  her." 

But  the  fear  that  she  would  yield  to  their  influence 
kept  him  in  a  fever  of  anxiety.  At  length  his  fears 
subsided ;  he  saw  that  religion  was  disagreeable  to 
her ;  that  she  shrunk  from  the  society  of  those  who,  as 
Christians,  made  their  light  shine,  evidently  prefer- 
ring his.  He  now  seemed  as  happy  as  one  out  of  the 
ark  of  safety  amid  such  light  could  be.  He  had  one 
friend,  one  relative  with  whom  there  was  unison  of 


310  SKETCHES   FROM   LIFE. 

feeling.  They  could  strengthen  each  other,  and  laugh 
together  at  the  piety  of  those  around  them. 

He  was  interrupted  in  this  dream  of  happiness  one 
evening,  as  the  people  began  to  gather  at  his  father's 
for  a  prayer-meeting,  by  being  informed  that  Mary 
had  knelt  for  prayers  the  previous  evening.  He  knew 
that  she  often  attended  meetings  with  his  mother  and 
sisters,  but  was  not  aware  that  she  had  been  affected 
by  them.  He  was  shocked  by  this  intelligence.  He 
sought  where  to  weep  alone,  and  shed  bitter  tears. 

When  somewhat  composed,  he  sought  Mary  and 
requested  a  private  interview.  She  designated  a  room 
where  to  meet  him.  He  went  there ;  it  looked  as 
desolate  as  he  felt.  The  seats  had  been  removed  to 
the  large  kitchen  for  the  meeting.  He  rested  his 
elbow  on  the  window,  and  endeavored  to  calm  the 
feelings  of  mingled  grief  and  anger  that  swelled  in 
his  bosom. 

When  she  entered  he  met  her,  threw  his  arms 
around  her,  and  burst  into  tears. 

"  Why,  John,  what  is  the  matter?" 

"  Oh,  Mary,  you  are  going  to  leave  me  alone  ;  you 
are  going  to  be  like  the  rest  of  them." 

Poor  Mary,  who  was  but  partially  awakened,  and 
not  prepared  for  this  assault,  had  no  power  to  resist 
it.  She  replied,  hesitating,  "Perhaps  not — I  don't 
know  yet — I — I — really  don't  know,  John." 

"But  why  did  you  kneel  for  prayers  last  night?' 
said  he,  with  the  air  of  an  injured  person. 

"  Because  I  thought  I  had  need  of  prayers.  Come, 
John,"  said  she,  affectionately,  "  let  us  seek  religion 
together.  We  both  need  it ;  let  us  become  Christians, 
and  then  we  shall  be  happy." 


JOHN  AND  mS   COUSIN.  311 

"Happy!"'  he  muttered  with  a  sullen  air,  turning-  to 
the  window,  wiicre  he  again  wept. 

She  tried  to  soothe  him,  but  his  countenance  Avas 
shrouded  witji  gloom  till  she  descended  from  the  emi- 
nence she  had  gained  to  his  level ;  then  sunny  smiles 
shone  forth. 

"  Come,  John,"  said  she,  tapping  him  on  the  shoul- 
der, "  cheer  up.  Don't  be  frightened.  I  am  not  A'cry 
good  yet."' 

He  did  "  cheer  up,"  and  things  passed  on  as  usual ; 
but  Oh,  what  occasion  had  both  to  "be  frightened," 
thus  to  quench  the  Spirit,  and  say,  "  Go  thy  way  for 
this  time." 

After  about  three  months,  it  being  a  new  country, 
religious  meetings  were  held  in  a  grove  near  b}'.  Mary 
was  at  that  time  residing  with  her  own  family,  who 
had  removed  there,  but  she  had  not  escaped  the  influ- 
ence of  John.  His  anxieties  were  all  aw^ake,  lest  she 
should  become  interested,  and  he  attended  the  meet- 
ings constantly  for  no  purpose  but  to  keep  an  eye  on 
her.  She  had  yielded  to  his  solicitations,  and  partially 
promised  to  attend  a  ball  with  him  in  an  adjoining 
town  on  a  day  previous  to  the  close  of  the  meetings. 
This  ball  had  been  planned  for  the  express  purpose  of 
counteracting  the  influence  of  the  meetings  ;  and  many 
parents'  hearts  bled  as  they  saw  their  wayward  chil- 
dren turn  their  backs  upon  the  place  where  the  "  still 
small  voice"  of  the  Spirit  was.  whispering,  "Turn  ye, 
turn  ye,  for  why  will  ye  die  ?"  and  draw  off"  to  the 
place  of  amusement,  thus  stepping  over  the  line  of 
separation,  and  joining  the  ranks  of  the  enemy. 

But  it  was  a  time  of  the  right  hand  of  the  Most 
Hio;h,  and  to  the  rairing  billows  of  sin  he  said,  "Hith- 


312  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

erto  shalt  tliou  come,  but  no  further."  There  are 
times  when  he  seems  to  "  rend  the  heavens  and  come 
down ;"  when  the  mountains  of  sin  flow  down  at  his 
presence,  as  when  melting  fire  burneth — times  when 
he  shows  in  a  peculiar  manner  that  he  sitteth  King  in 
Zion,  and  this  was  one  of  them.  By  the  day  appoint- 
ed, Mary  had  become  too  much  interested  to  attend 
the  ball,  and  John's  entreaties  were  of  no  avail.  Fear- 
ing what  would  follow,  ho  remained  also,  and  before 
the  close  of  the  meetings,  saw  her  kneeling  among 
anxious  inquirers,  deeply  awakened. 

Up  to  this  time  he  had  continued  indifferent ;  in- 
deed, he  had  been  so  absorbed  in  watching  Mary,  that 
he  seemed  not  to  have  heard  any  thing.  When  he 
perceived  her  among  the  anxious,  he  pushed  his  way 
to  her.  "Mary,  Mary,  why  are  you  here?  Come 
away ;  come  with  me,"  taking  her  by  the  arm. 
"  Leave  me,  John  ;  leave  me,"  she  cried  with  stream^ 
ing 
yoi 

He  left  her  without  speaking.  This  sentence, 
accompanied  by  the  Holy  Spirit,  was  an  arrow  from 
the  quiver  of  the  Almighty.-  The  facts,  that  he  was 
seeking  to  drag  her  down  there ;  that  lie  was  himself 
rushing  headlong  to  its  mouth ;  that  he  was  rashly 
snapping  asunder  every  friendly  cord  that  love  had 
tlirown  around  him  to  check  his  mad  career,  now 
became  living  realities.  His  sins  became  a  burden 
too  heavy  to  be  borne  ;  his  agony  was  intense.  Hell 
seemed  opening  under  his  feet,  and  he  descending  into 
its  fiery  billows.  He  attempted  to  leave  the  place ; 
but  before  proceeding  far,  his  groans  and  cries  for 
mercy  burst  forth.     The  young  men,  his  companions 


A  RIDE  AND  A  STORY.  313 

in  sin,  fled  at  his  cry ;  but  others  of  a  different  spirit 
soon  found  him,  and  intelligence  was  conveyed  to 
his  friends.  Oh,  what  a  time  was  that!  Christians 
wrestled  like  Jacob,  and  had  power  with  God  ;  espe- 
cially those  of  the  large  circle  of  his  kindred  who  had 
an  interest  at  the  throne  of  grace.  Prayer  rose  like 
a  cloud  of  incense,  and  the  Spirit  who  reveals  Jesus 
to  the  soul  descended  to  melt  the  stony  heart. 

Soon,  Mary  was  "happy  in  pardoning  mercy  ;"  and 
ere  long  the  groans  of  John  were  exchanged  for  songs 
of  salvation.  Both  adorned  their  profession,  especially 
John.  From  that  day  he  lived  like  "a  new  creature 
in  Christ  Jesus."  The  same  zeal  manifest  in  his  blind- 
ness, now  distinguished  liim  as  a  Christian.  He  soon 
commenced  preparation  for  tlie  ministry,  and  for  more 
than  thirty  years  was  a  faithful  herald  of  the  cross  on 
the  walls  of  Zion.  Orpha. 


A  RIDE   AND  A  STORY. 

About  midnight,  in  the  month  of  May,  1828,  I  was 
called  by  the  watch  at  the  old  "  Eagle,"  in  Richmond, 
Ya.,  and  told  that  the  stage  would  soon  be  ready.  In 
a  few  minutes  I  found  myself  in  a  crowded  stage  on 
our  way  to  Fredericksburg.  When  the  morning  came, 
I  discovered  that  my  fellow-travellers  were  five  well- 
dressed  men,  and  a  well-dressed,  matronly  colored 
woman,  who  had  under  her  charge  two  white  chil- 
dren. They  called  her  "mamma,"  and  such  was  her 
good  character,  that  she  was  trusted  with  these  chil- 
dren on  a  journey  of  about  one  hundred  and  forty 
miles.   She  and  they  were  going  to  see  some  relatives 

Sketches.  1 4 


314  SKETCHES   FROM   LIFE. 

in  Spottsylvania.  Soon  after  breakfasting,  conversa- 
tion became  quite  lively  among  a  portion  of  the  pas- 
sengers. The  exhaustless  theme  of  politics  received 
some  notice.  Then  we  heard  of  what  had  recently 
occurred  in  the  city.    Lastly,  religion  was  introduced. 

The  most  voluble  of  the  company  gave  us  his  views 
quite  flippantly.  He  was  quite  opposed  to  religion. 
It  made  hypocrites.  It  was  an  enemy  to  innocent 
amusements.  It  made  men  mean.  It  was  neither 
good  for  black  people  or  white  people. 

At  first  he  was  listened  to  by  several  of  the  com- 
pany with  apparent  respect.  But  soon  most  of  us  paid 
no  attention.  Not  so  "  mamma."  She  was  all  atten- 
tion. Her  manner  was  very  respectful  and  dignified. 
At  length  the  infidel  noticed  her,  and  by  something  he 
said,  invited  her  to  give  her  opinion.  With  much 
modesty  she  said,  "  All  you  have  stated  may  be  true, 
but  it  surprises  me  very  much.  I  live  down  on 
Roanoke,  and  religion  produces  very  different  effects 

there.     Mr.  G ,  one  of  my  master's  neighbors,  is 

very  wealthy,  and  has  been  a  very  passionate  man. 
He  had  a  servant  named  Tom,  who  was  one  of  the 
worst  men  in  the  neighborhood.  Tom  would  lie,  and 
steal,  and  run  away,  and  fight. 

"  Some  months  ago,  Tom  went  out  on  one  of  his 
rovings,  and  on  Lord's  day  came  to  a  meeting,  and 
heard  the  gospel  preaclied.  The  minister  preached 
beautifully  about  the  love  of  Jesus  to  poor  sinners, 
and  told  the  people  that  if  the  worst  man  in  the  con- 
gregation would  forsake  his  sins,  and  cry  to  Jesus  for 
mercy,  he  would  be  forgiven,  Tom  heard  this,  and 
began  to  weep.  As  soon  as  the  meeting  was  over, 
Tom  started  for  home,  but  he  was  in  great  distress. 


A   RIDE  AND  A  STORY.  Slo 

The  next  day  he  went  to  work,  but  said  little.  He 
continued  so  some  days.  At  length  one  of  the  ser- 
vants heard  him  praying  alone.  In  a  month  or  two 
Tom  began  to  put  his  trust  in  Jesus,  and  then  he  was 
so  happy  he  wished  that  every  body  should  be  relig- 
ious. So  he  talked  to  the  servants,  and  had  prayers 
in  his  cabin  at  night.  Some  of  the  servants  mocked 
him,  and  said  he  was  only  after  some  mischief;  but  all 
confessed  he  was  very  much  changed  ;  for  he  showed 
no  bad  temper,  even  when  they  told  him  he  was  mad. 
''  At  length  Mr.  Gr heard  how  Tom  was  carry- 
ing on,  and  he  too  thought  Tom  was  laying  som-"  plot 
to  make  a  disturbance.  So  he  came  and  told  Tom  he 
must  quit  singing  and  praying  in  the  quarters.  Tom 
said,  '  Master,  I  have  been  a  very  bad  man,  and  a  very 
bad  servant,  but  I  hope  God  has  forgiven  me.  I  now 
intend  to  quit  all  my  bad  practices,  and  prove  to  you 
that  I  am  a  better  man.  I  will  serve  you  faithfully ; 
but,  master,  I  feel  as  if  I  must  praise  God,  and  tell 
my  fellow-servants  what  the  Lord  has  done  for  me.' 
'Then,'  said  the  master,  'I  will  whip  you.'  So  he  tied 
him  up  and  whipped  him  severely.  As  soon  as  he  let 
him  down,  Tom  fell  on  his  knees  and  prayed  for  his 
master,  for  himself,  and  for  all  the  family.  The  mas- 
ter left  him  on  his  knees,  but  he  went  to  the  house 
very  unhappy.  He  began  to  think  and  read  the  Bible, 
and  pray  too.  So  it  was,  Mr.  G was  soon  con- 
verted himself.    And  last  month  Mr.  G and  Tom 

both  joined  the  Baptist  church  ;  and  when  they  were 

going  to  be  baptized,  Mr.  G went  and  took  Tom 

by  the  hand,  and  they  both  walked  down  to  the  water 
together,  and  now  they  are  good  friends.  Tom  don't 
lie  and  steal  and  quarrel  any  more ;  and  his  master 


316  SKETCHES   FROM  LIFE.       • 

has  prayers,  and  brings  all  the  servants  in  to  prayers 
every  night,  and  the  change  there  is  beautiful." 

"Mamma"  closed  her  story.  One  or  two  of  the 
passengers  gave  a  significant  look  at  each  other.  I 
kept  silence,  feeling  that  it  was  best  to  let  the  truth 
work  its  own  way,  and  our  infidel  made  some  remark, 
after  a  short  pause,  on  another  subject,  but  gave  us  no 
more  of  his  religious  opinions.  We  reached  Fred- 
ericksburg in  tlie  afternoon,  and  I  have  never  met 
any  of  the  company  since.  Doubtless  many  of  them 
he  ve  gone  to  eternity,  and  I  am  left  to  tell  the  story. 
It  may  suggest,  that, 

1.  There  is  a  time  to  speak,  and  a  time  to  keep 
silence.  A  w^ord  fitly  spoken,  how  good  is  it.  "  Mam- 
ma" was  the  best  preacher  in  that  stage.  She  alone 
had  a  good  oi)portunity  to  say  any  thing  pertinently, 
and  without  exciting  angry  words.  She  did  not  ob- 
trude, but  she  bore  an  humble,  modest  testimony,  and 
gave  a  reason  of  the  hope  that  was  in  her,  with  meek- 
ness and  fear. 

2.  True  religion  produces  the  same  effects  on  the 
heart  and  character  in  every  age.  It  has  lost  none  of 
its  power  to  renew  the  depraved,  and  save  them  from 
sin. 

3.  The  doctrine  that  impressed  poor  Tom's  mind, 
is  still  the  melting,  subduing  doctrine  of  Scripture. 
Let  it  be  preached.  R. 


DEBATE   WITH  A   ROMISH  BISHOP. 

Western  steam-boats  furnish  a  miniature  picture  of 
the  world.  You  will  often  meet  men  of  many  nations 
and  tongues,  of  every  trade  and  profession,  and  of 


DEBATE   WITH   A   KOMISH  BISHOP.  317 

every  creed.  A  single  clay  will  sometimes  give  one  a 
specimen  of  gambling,  drinking,  fighting,  swearing, 
praying,  and  preaching.  The  good  and  evil  arc 
strangely  commingled. 

A  year  or  two  since,  I  took  passage  in  one  of  these 
boats  from  St.  Louis  to  Louisville,  at  a  low  stage  of 
water  in  the  Ohio.  As  we  were  about  to  leave,  I 
noticed  a  passenger  with  unusual  garb  and  appear- 
ance, who  was  attended  to  the  wharf  by  several  eccle- 
siastics. When  we  reached  a  little  town  on  the  Mis- 
sissippi, the  stranger  with  the  long  coat  made  his  way 
to  the  Jesuit  college  there  located  ;  and  our  captain, 
an  Irish  Roman-catholic,  made  an  extra  landing  in 
front  of  the  college  to  receive  him  again  on  board. 
Tlie  long-coated  professors  accompanied  him  to  the 
shore,  and  kissed  him  reverently  as  they  parted  from 
him.  Every  tiling  betokened  the  presence  of  a  dis- 
tinguished member  of  the  so-called  "  order  of  Jesus," 
and  so  it  proved. 

Among  the  passengers  were  two  gentlemen  having 
the  aspect  of  Protestant  clergymen.  They  were  ob- 
served to  deposit  tracts  and  little  books  in  places  of 
convenient  access  to  the  passengers  and  crew.  One 
of  them  devoted  himself  to  the  comfort  and  instruc- 
tion of  a  dying  cholera  subject  on  the  lower  deck. 
They  mingled  familiarly  with  the  crowded  company 
of  the  cabin,  but  with  a  dignity  that  indicated  the 
remembrance  of  their  sacred  calling. 

When  ascending  the  Ohio  the  steamer  grounded, 
and  lay  helpless  for  an  entire  day.  While  in  this  con- 
dition, the  papal  emissary  was  seen  with  groups  around 
him,  with  winning  words  insinuating  the  dogmas  of 
his  church  into  the  minds  of  his  hearers;  now  expa- 


318  SKETCHES  FR0:J  LIFE. 

tiating  on  the  glories  of  St.  Peter's,  then  explaining 
away  the  worship  of  the  Virgin,  and  adroitly  prepar- 
ing them  for  the  service  that  was  to  follow.  At  night- 
fall, after  supper,  a  jovial  lawyer  from  the  mouth  of 
the  Ohio  announced  to  the  passengers  that  we  were 
honored  with  the  presence  of  one  of  the  most  venera- 
ble and  distinguished  of  the  Roman-catholic  bishops 
in  this  country,  who  had  consented  to  address  us  in 
reference  to  the  tenets  of  his  church.  A  crowd  gath- 
ered around  the  ladies'  saloon,  and  the  bishop,  who 
seemed  to  be  an  amiable  and  intelligent  man,  com- 
menced his  harangue,  first  "saying  a  little  prayer." 
He  spoke  kindly  of  his  "  separated  brethren,"  as  well 
he  might,  with  almost  none  but  the  captain  of  the  boat 
committed  to  his  system,  and  expressed  the  charitable 
hope  that  they  would  all  be  brought  to  the  faith  of 
Rome.  The  burden  of  his  discourse  was  a  skilful 
exaltation  of  tradition  above  the  Bible,  of  "the 
church"  above  the  Redeemer.  Faithful  to  the  in- 
stincts of  his  communion,  he  made  an  adroit  onset  upon 
the  only  true  basis  of  a  spiritual  religion.  The  pres- 
tige of  a  live  bishop  seemed  to  give  weight  to  his  in- 
fluence with  a  company  not  overstocked  with  biblical 
knowledge.  It  seemed  to  be  an  hour  of  peril  to  the 
cause  of  evangelical  truth. 

As  the  service  was  about  to  close,  one  of  the  gen- 
tlemen to  whom  I  alluded,  and  who  gave  fixed  atten- 
tion to  the  bishop's  address,  arose,  and  in  a  calm  but 
firm  manner  expressed  the  interest  he  had  taken  in 
the  statements  of  his  venerable  friend.  "  But,"  said 
he,  "  all  must  be  aware  that  quite  different  sentiments 
are  entertained  by  Bible  Christians  as  to  the  topics 
here  discussed ;  and  if  God  gives  me  the  strength,  I 


DEBATE  WITH   A  ROMISH  BISHOP.  319 

will  endeavor,  to-morrow  night,  to  exhibit  their  views 
of  the  matters  which  have  now  occupied  our  atten- 
tion." The  tone  of  the  speaker  indicated  more  than 
his  words. 

The  company  dispersed,  some  to  resume  their 
gambling  occupations,  some  to  the  bar-room,  some 
to  renew  their  oaths  and  imprecations,  some  to  dis- 
cuss tlie  merits  of  the  debate  thus  opened,  some  to 
their  berths.  The  noisy  lawyer,  strengthened  in  his 
vices  by  anti-scriptural  doctrine,  renewed  his  cups. 
Standing  within  a  few  feet  of  the  state-room  of  the 
bishop,  his  voice  was  heard  till  a  late  hour  by  the 
unwilling  multitude  of  would-be  sleepers,  in  ridicule 
of  the  truth  he  found  in  some  Protestant  tracts,  and 
in  obscene  and  vulgar  jokes.  Iniquity  seemed  to  have 
found  new  license,  and  profanity  new  terms  of  blas- 
phemy.    It  was  a  miserable  night  for  us  all. 

On  the  nest  evening  the  company  of  passengers 
gathered  as  by  a  common  impulse,  to  listen  to  the 

promised  reply  to  the  bishop.     Mr. ,  apparently 

thinking  that  there  might  be  an  aspect  of  obtrusive- 
ness  in  a  voluntary  engagement  in  the  debate,  ex- 
pressed his  readiness  to  forego  the  opportunity  of 
speaking,  if  any  one  of  his  hearers  desired  it.  Thus 
securing  his  position,  he  announced  the  hymn,  "  Come, 
Holy  Spirit,  heavenly  Dove,"  which  was  sung  by  the 
assembly  with  solemnity.  He  then  invited  his  friend 
from  Boston  to  pray ;  and  the  rich  unction  and  happy 
adaptation  of  that  warm-hearted  puritan  prayer,  con- 
trasted with  the  formal,  lifeless  prayer  "said"  by  the 
bishop,  half  finished  the  debate. 

Mr.  •  disclaimed  all  love  of  controversy,  and 

avowed  his  purpose  to  deal  with  principles  lying  at 


320  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

the  foundation  of  human  obligations  and  hopes.  He 
entered  on  tlie  discussion  less  to  refute  the  errors  of 
the  bishop,  than  to  save  the  souls  of  his  hearers.  He 
then  gave  a  rapid  sketch  of  the  doctrines  and  history 
of  the  primitive  church ;  the  rise  and  influence  of 
popery  ;  the  efforts  of  the  reformers,  and  the  triumphs 
of  the  truth  in  the  sixteenth  century,  and  demonstrated 
the  substantial  unity  of  the  evangelical  churches.  Hav- 
ing thus  cleared  tlie  way,  he  planted  himself  on  the 
impregnable  ground  of  D'Aubigne  and  of  Protestant- 
ism: the  word  of  God  only,  excluding  tradition;  the 
grace  of  Christ  only,  striking  at  the  roots  of  a  religion 
of  works ;  the  work  of  the  Holy  Spirit  only,  as  distin- 
guished from  a  religion  of  external  rites ;  and  unfold- 
ed with  earnestness  the  great  themes  that  cluster 
around  the  cross.  The  application  of  these  fundamen- 
tal principles  to  the  church  of  Rome,  and  to  the  dog- 
mas of  the  bishop,  was  left  to  each  hearer ;  but  the 
least  intelligent  mind  could  perceive,  that  if  such  were 
the  teachings  of  Scripture — if  "  the  just  shall  live  by 
faith  " — then  the  whole  superstructure  of  papal  super- 
stition rests  on  error,  and  must  fall  at  last.  Without 
the  aspect  of  controversy,  and  with  direct  bearings 
on  the  spiritual  state  of  those  addressed,  every  lead- 
ing position  of  the  bishop  was  underminded,  and  evan- 
gelical truth  fully  vindicated.  It  only  remained  to 
dissect  the  seven  pretended  sacraments  of  the  Papal 
church,  which  the  bishop  had  proclaimed  and  defended  ; 
in  doing  which,  Mr. indulged  in  the  wit  and  sar- 
casm which  alone  some  of  them  deserved.  He  closed 
with  an  appeal  to  the  conscience,  tender  and  solemn. 

The  bishop,  with  less  of  discretion  than  might 
have  been  expected  from  an  aged  prelate,  attempted 


DEBATE  WITH  A  ROMISH   BISHOP.  321 

to  recover  his  ground,  by  asserting  the  friendliness  of 
the  Papal  church  to  the  Bible,  denying  that  it  was  a 
prohibited  book  in  the  Papal  states ;  also  denying  the 
existence  of  "  indulgences ;"  assailing  the  credibility 
of  D'Aubigne  as  a  historian,  etc.     The  issue  being 

thus  joined,  Mr. replied   firmly,   and  brought 

hunic  to  the  bishop's  own  diocese  the  allegations 
which  had  been  general  and  indefinite.-  It  was  a  tri- 
umph of  the  truth.  The  "smooth  stones  "  from  Siloah's 
brook  reached  their  mark,  and  another  giant  measured 
his  length  on  the  plain. 

I  spent  another  day  on  the  boat,  and  had  abundant 
opportunities  of  observing  the  influence  of  the  discus- 
sion. The  only  oath  I  subsequently  heard  was  from 
the  pilot  at  the  wheel,  whose  duties  had  kept  him  from 
the  cabin.  I  saw  no  more  gambling.  Many  of  the 
passengers  sought  friendly  intercourse  with  the  Prot- 
estant preacher.  And  when  he  and  his  travelling 
companion  left  the  boat,  to  keep  holy  time — leaving 
the  bishop  to  pursue  his  journey  on  the  Sabbath — 
many  thanks  were  tendered  for  the  timely  and  effec- 
tive refutation  of  Papal  error  sought  to  be  imposed 
on  a  crowd  of  American  Protestants. 

I  add  but  a  word  to  this  incomplete  sketch  of  a 
steam-boat  debate. 

1.  The  only  weapon  needed  in  the  conflict  with  the 
man  of  sin,  is  "  the  sword  of  the  Spirit." 

2.  Providential  occasions  for  controversy  with  er- 
rorists  will  bring  with  them  providential  aids. 

3.  It  is  best  so  to  conduct  polemical  discussions 
that  the  spirit  of  a  true  faith  may  win  confidence  for  its 
doctrines,  and  so  that  souls  may  be  saved,  even  if  the 
argument  be  lost. 

14* 


322  SKETCHES  FROM   LIFE. 

4.  There  is  little  danger  from  the  Romish  church 
in  this  country,  if  its  bishops  will  consent  to  discuss 
its  principles  in  the  newspapers  and  in  steam-boat 
cabins.     The  system  will  not  bear  ventilation. 

5.  "By  their  fruits  ye  shall  know  them."  The 
moral  tendencies  of  the  Papal  and  evangelical  sys- 
tems, as  seen  in  the  unchecked  vice  of  a  western 
steamer  after  an  evening's  discourse  by  a  distinguish- 
ed prelate,  and  in  the  quiet  and  order  produced  by  an 
exhibition  of  gospel  truths  by  an  unknown  Protestant, 
were  so  palpably  demonstrated  as  to  leave  no  doubt 
which  system  can  trace  its  origin  to  the  great  Source 
of  wisdom  and  purity.  Heber. 


THE   CONFESSION   OF   A   DEIST. 

In  1848,  I  became  acquainted  with  an  intelligent 
Deist,  by  visiting  him  in  affliction.  From  several  con- 
versations, I  learned  somewhat  of  his  history.  His 
father  lived  and  died  a  Deist;  and  the  son,  from  his 
youth  up,  had  read  all  he  could  to  fortify  his  mind  in 
Deism.  He  was  conversant  with  the  greatest  infidel 
authors ;  he  had  been  a  diligent  attendant  on  lectures 
by  celebrated  advocates  of  Deism,  and  thus  had  become 
a  proficient  in  deistical  views  and  arguments.  In  ad- 
dition to  this,  he  was  a  clear-headed  man  with  a  meta- 
physical cast  of  mind.  He  knew  well  how  to  argue 
on  the  subject  of  infidelity.  No  man  could  converse 
with  him  without  being  convinced  of  this.  He  could 
easily  detect  and  point  out  the  weak  side  of  an  argu- 
ment brought  against  his  views.  He  was  cool  in  rea- 
soning, and  considerate  in  his  replies. 


THE  CONFESSION  OF  A  DEIST.  328- 


One  day  I  found  him  at  his  work,  but  in  a  thougnt- 
ful  mood  of  mind.  After  the  usual  salutations,  he 
commenced  the  conversation  thus  :  I  give  it  as  nearly 
as  possible  in  his  own  words. 

"  Mr.  F ,  I  have  been  thinking  of  you,  and  of 

myself.  I  consider  you  must  be  a  happy  man :  your 
religion  must  make  you  happy.  I  have  buried  two 
dear  children,  and  I  have  buried  them  as  worms.  I 
believe  I  shall  never  see  them  again,  for  they  will 
rot  and  perish  as  worms :  there  is  something  very 
gloomy  in  this.  But  you  believe  in  a  resurrection — 
that  you  will  see  your  children  in  another  world.  This 


•324  SKETCHES  FROM   LIFE. 

must  make  you  happy.  I  wish  I  could  believe  the 
Bible  as  you  do." 

To  this  I  replied,  that  I  had  enjoyed  the  soul- 
inspiring  thought,  under  the  loss  of  one  dear  child  I 
had  been  called  to  lay  in  the  cold  tomb,  whose  image 
frequently  rose  up  before  me,  that  I  had  buried  her 
in  sure  and  certain  hope  of  a  joyful  resurrection, 
and  through  grace  I  expected  again  to  meet  her  in 
heaven. 

He  also  informed  me  that  he  was  reading  and  labor- 
ing and  praying  to  God  to  convince  him  of  the  divine 
inspiration  of  the  Bible.  He  was  very  much  concern- 
ed about  the  education  of  his  children  who  were  then 
living,  and  was  sending  them  to  Christian  schools. 
Such  was  the  man,  such  his  circumstances,  and  such 
his  confession. 

To  the  thoughtful  mind  this  honest  and  unasked- 
for  confession  will  suggest  serious  reflections.  We 
invite  attention  to  five. 

1 .  What  a  difference  betvjeen  the  tendency  of  Deism  and 
Christianity.  The  one  debases  the  mind,  the  other 
ennobles  it.  If  I  look  upon  my  children  "  as  worms  " 
and  nothing  more,  which  are  to  live  a  short  time,  and 
in  the  grave  perish  for  ever,  will  not  the  tendency  in 
my  mind  be  to  treat  them  as  such  ?  But  if  I  regard 
my  children  as  immortal  beings,  living  that  they  may 
be  prepared  to  die,  dying  that  they  may  live  for  ever, 
in  happiness  or  woe,  will  not  the  thought  of  such  an 
existence  ennoble  my  mind  ;  and  sliall  not  I  train 
them  accordingly?  Does  not  the  one  view  assimilate 
them  to  the  beast  ?  Does  not  the  other,  to  angels  ?  The 
one  to  earth,  the  other  to  heaven? 

2.  There  is  no  sure  foundation  for  the  faith  of  man  to 


THE  CONFESSION  OF  A  DEIST.  325 

rest  upon  apart  from  divine  revelation.  The  man  who 
throws  this  overboard  has  no  anchor.  His  mind, 
however  intelligent,  then  becomes  the  sport  of  every 
wind,  subject  to  doubts  and  difficulties  on  every  hand. 
Such  was  the  case  of  the  Deist  whose  confession  we 
have  given.  This  thought  has  frequently  occurred  to 
me  while  in  conversation  with  infidels,  and  in  reading 
their  productions.  They  unsettle  every  thing,  but 
settle  nothing.  To  them  mystery  and  doubt  surround 
every  thing.  The  state  of  their  minds  is  epitomized 
in  these  grand  questions  :  "But  who  knows?"  "  How 
do  I  know?"  It  is  all  uncertain.  The  Avork  of  dem- 
olition is  theirs :  to  pull  down,  not  to  build  up ;  to 
uproot  Christianity,  and  establish  nothing  in  its  stead. 
Some  of  the  purest  minds  tlie  world  ever  saw  have 
felt  this,  and  acknowledged  the  necessity  of  a  divine 
revelation. 

3.  The  danger  of  moral  poison.  The  effects  of  poi- 
son on  the  mind  are  as  fatal  as  on  the  body,  and  more 
lasting.  This  man  felt  the  truth  of  this,  and  labored 
to  extricate  himself  from  the  moral  poison  which  he 
had  imbibed  ;  but  alas,  he  could  not.  Let  young  and 
old  avoid  moral  poison  as  they  would  opium  ;  what 
the  one  is  to  the  body,  the  other  is  to  the  soul.  It 
may  please,  but  in  the  end  it  will  destroy.  Not  that 
error  is  more  powerful  than  truth  ;  but  many,  espe- 
cially of  the  young,  read  a  work  or  two  on  the  side  of 
infidelity,  find  it  congenial  to  their  own  feelings,  and 
then  never  consider  the  Bible  and  its  own  internal 
testimony,  or  the  other  evidences  that  it  is  from  God, 
An  acquaintance  of  mine  visited  six  infidels,  and  when 
they  began  to  accuse  and  misquote  the  Scriptures,  he 
asked  them  to  point  out  the  passages,  but  not  one  of 


326  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

them  had  a  Bible  to  refer  to.  If  the  facts  could  be 
gathered,  no  doubt  we  should  find  this  to  be  the  gen- 
eral rule — what  Deists  know  of  the  Bible  is  through 
the  works  of  its  bitterest  enemies. 

If  authors,  editors,  and  publishers  would  vend  less 
of  this  moral  poison,  and  say  less  about  their  patriot- 
ism, they  would  be  more  truly  patriotic.  These  infi- 
del sentiments  in  their  various  forms  and  channels  are 
the  great  danger  of  the  age.  Oh,  do  not  tamper  with 
this  poison ;  you  may  get  it  into  your  soul,  but  never 
get  it  out  again. 

4.  How  cruel  is  infidelity.  Here  is  a  kind  father 
burying  two  dear  children.  How  painful  the  parting. 
How  sad  the  bereavement.  But  Christianity,  like  an 
angel  of  mercy  from  the  world  of  bliss,  steps  forward 
and  tenderly  whispers,  "Weep  not."  "They  sleep  in 
Jesus."  "Not  dead,  but  gon^e  before."  "Through 
grace  you  shall  meet  them  in  glory,  and  never  part 
again."  Oh,  what  a  cup  of  consolation  this  to  the 
bereaved  parent,  as  he  casts  the  last  sad  glance  at  his 
dear  ones  in  the  cold  grave!  But  infidelity  with  a 
hand  hard,  cold,  and  cruel  as  death,  steps  up  and 
dashes  this  cup  of  consolation  from  his  lips  :  says  it  is 
all  fabrication — a  lie.  They  shall  never  rise  again, 
but  shall  sink  into  annihilation,  and  "rot  as  worms." 
Oh,  infidelity,  how  cruel  art  thou  to  the  bereaved  par- 
ent; dashing  the  last  drop  of  consolation  from  his 
bereaved  and  sorrowing  heart. 

5.  What  a  boon  to  man  is  the  gospel  of  Christ — its 
enemies  being  judges.  "  It  makes  you  happy,"  says 
this  honest-hearted  Deist.  Yes,  the  gospel  of  Christ 
lays  a  glorious  foundation  for  the  happiness  of  man  in 
time  and  through  eternity — a  foundation  firm  as  the 


COULD  NOT  FIND  CHRIST.  32T 

"  everlasting  hills,"  yea,  as  the  throne  of  God  itself — 
a  foundation  built  upon  the  principles  of  eternal  right, 
fixed  by  the  immutable  counsel  and  purpose  of  God, 
cemented  by  the  blood  of  his  Son,  revealed  to  us  in 
the  Bible,  imparted  to  us  by  the  Holy  Spirit  in  con- 
version, and  in  heaven  we  shall  enjoy  its  full  fruition. 

Are  you  an  infidel?  Read  the  other  side  of  the 
question,  and  pray  God  to  guide  you.  For  what  will 
infidelity  profit  in  the  day  of  afllictiou,  and  in  the 
hour  of  death  ? 

Are  you  unconverted,  yet  a  believer  in  the  Bible  ? 
Let  me  entreat  you  at  once  to  seek  salvation  through 
the  blood  of  Christ,  and  "flee  from  the  wrath  to 
come." 

Are  you  a  Christian?  Be  grateful  unto  Him  who 
called  you  out  of  darkness  into  the  marvellous  light 
of  the  gospel.  "How  much  owest  thou  unto  thy 
Lord?"  R.  F. 


COULD  NOT  FIND  CHRIST. 

The  late  Judge  Niles  of  Vermont,  who  in  the  early 
part  of  his  life  was  a  preacher  and  a  missionary  to 
the  new  settlements,  related  in  substance  the  follow- 
ing narrative : 

"  I  was  preaching  in  the  western  part  of  Pennsyl- 
vania, which  was  then  chiefly  a  wilderness.  I  called 
one  day  on  a  man  who  lived  in  the  forest,  far  from 
neighbors  and  Christian  society.  I  asked  him  if  he 
thouglit  himself  a  Christian.  He  said  no,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  give  me  his  religious  experience. 

"'I  removed  to  these  parts,'  he  said,  'many  years 


328  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

since,  from  the  vicinit)^  of  Pliiladelplna.  On  one  of 
my  visits  to  my  former  home,  I  found  a  great  atten- 
tion to  religion  in  all  that  region.  Whitefield  had 
been  preaching  there,  and  almost  every  body  was 
engaged  in  the  subject.  I  heard  of  this  one  and  that 
of  my  acquaintance  who  had  found  Christ,  and  multi- 
tudes were  spoken  of  who  had  found  Christ.  At 
length  one  addressed  me,  and  asked  if  I  had  found 
Christ.  I  said  no,  but  I  should  like  to  find  him.  He 
gave  me  a  Bible,  and  said  if  I  would  read  that,  I 
should  find  Christ.  I  read  my  Bible  a  great  deal 
while  there,  and  on  my  way  home,  and  after  I  reached 
home,  but  didn't  find  Christ. 

" '  I  then  built  an  arbor  a  small  distance  from  my 
house,  and  went  there  every  day,  and  read  my  Bible, 
and  prayed  ;  and  every  time  I  came  out  from  my  arbor 
I  looked  up  through  the  trees,  expecting  to  see  Christ 
coming  down ;  but  I  did  n't  see  him,  and  I  looked 
around,  but  could  n't  find  him.  And  this  I  did  so 
long  without  finding  Christ,  that  I  grew  discouraged, 
and  began  to  think  I  was  so  great  a  sinner  that  Christ 
would  not  show  himself  to  me,  and  that  I  should  not 
find  him,  though  so  many  others  had.  I  said,  I  will 
go  once  more  to  my  arbor  and  pray,  and  if  I-  do  not 
find  Christ  then,  I  will  not  go  again. 

"'I  went  and  prayed,  and  when  I  came  out  I 
looked  up  through  the  trees  to  see  if  Christ  was  there  ; 
and  again  I  couldn't  find  him.  But  as  I  looked,  the 
leaves  of  the  trees,  and  the  branches,  and  the  openings 
between  them,  looked  as  they  never  looked  before — 
all  beautiful  and  glorious.  I  looked  around  me, 
and  every  thing  appeared  just  so,  and  I  wondered  I 
could  n't  find  Christ.     I  was  sure  Christ  was  there. 


COULD  NOT  FIND  CHRIST.  329 

and  that  if  any  one  who  was  a  real  Christian  were 
there  with  me,  he  would  certainly  see  Christ;  but  I 
am  so  wicked  and  vile,  I  said,  Christ  will  not  show 
himself  to  me.  Again  I  looked  up  and  around  me  ; 
every  thing  appeared  lovely  and  beautiful,  but  still  I 
could  n't  find  Christ.  And  then  I  said,  I  know  Christ 
is  here,  and  if  there  were  any  real  Christians  here 
they  would  see  him,  and  that  is  enough  for  such  a  vile 
and  wicked  sinner  as  I — to  live  where  Christ  is,  and 
where  Christians  would  see  him  if  they  were  here. 
So  I  have  lived  ever  since.  I  have  not  yet  found 
Christ,  and  I  am  not  a  Christian,  but  I  love  to  live 
here  and  go  to  that  arbor  and  pray,  because  I  know 
Christ  is  there,  though  I  cannot  see  him.  It  is  de- 
lightful to  live  so  near  to  Christ.' 

"And,"  said  the  judge,  "if  there  ever  was  a  Chris- 
tian, I  believe  that  man  was  one,  though  he  thought 
he  could  not  find  Christ." 

Once  God  appeared  to  man  in  human  form^to 
Abrahaip,  to  Moses,  and  other  patriarchs.  In  later 
ages,  before  Christ,  he  manifested  himself  by  visible 
signs.  See  Hebrews  1:1.  Christ  showed  himself 
after  his  resurrection  to  his  disciples  in  miraculous 
ways,  and  once,  after  his  ascension,  to  Paul  on  his 
way  to  Damascus,  Acts  9  :  26 ;  and  to  the  apostle 
John,  Rev.  1  :  13.  But  we  do  not  know  that,  since 
the  age  of  the  apostles,  Christ  has  ever  appeared  in 
human  form,  or  manifested  himself  by  miracle.  Nor 
should  we  expect  him  to  do  so  until  his  second  com- 
ing "  in  power  and  great  glory." 

Yet  there  are  some  now  who  will  tell  you  they 
have  seen  Christ  in  a  vision,  or  they  have  seen  a 
bright  liglit  in  which  he  was,  or  they  have  heard  an 


330  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

audible  voice  from  him ;  and  they  look  on  this  as 
evidence  of  true  conversion.  We  should  not  under- 
value such  persons  for  relating  things  which  seem  to 
them  real,  for  in  many  cases  it  is  probable  persons 
have  been  truly  converted  in  connection  with  such 
imaginings.  But  we  should  understand  their  nature, 
and  not  suppose  we  cannot  find  Christ  unless  we  can 
see  him  with  our  bodily  eye.  All  that  is  necessary  is, 
to  see  him  with  the  eye  of  faith — "  Christ  m  you,  the 
hope  of  glory,"  not  before  the  bodily  eye.  The  man 
in  the  anecdote  we  have  related  saw  Christ  by  the 
eye  of  faith,  but  much  did  he  suffer  from  misunder- 
standing the  language  about  "  finding  Christ." 

Such  language  is  useful ;  it  contains  precious  truth  : 
let  us  strive  to  get  hold  of  the  kernel,  let  us  hold  on 
to  that  and  throw  the  husk  away.  It  is  related  of 
the  Rev.  Dr.  Nettleton,  that  when  he  was  preaching 
in  the  state  of ,  where  revivals  of  religion  at- 
tended him,  he  took  an  early  walk  one  morning,  and 
passing  a  family  of  much  pretension,  he  called.  The 
lady  of  the  house  came  to  the  door.  "  Good-morning, 
madam,"  said  he;  "does  Jesus  Christ  live  here?" 
The  lady,  thrown  off  her  guard,  replied,  "  No,  sir ;  he 
does  not."  "  Ah,"  said  he,  "  then  I  was  mistaken ; 
I  thought  he  might.  Good-morning,  madam,"  and 
walked  immediately  on.  This  put  the  lady  on  a 
course  of  thinking  which  resulted  in  her  conversion. 
She  pulled  off  the  husk  and  got  at  the  kernel. 

I  pray  that  you  may  "find  Christ,"  and  that  "Je- 
sus Christ  may  live  in  your  house."  R. 


A  PRAYING  WOMAN.  331 

A    PRAYING    WOMAN   AND   AN   UNGODLY 
YOUNG   MAN. 

A  few  years  ago,  there  lived  a  poor  woman  in  an 
obscure  village  at  the  West.  She  supported  herself 
by  severe  labor,  yet  always  found  time  to  pray,  and 
attend  upon  public  ordinances.  Her  heart  was  full 
of  love  and  zeal  in  the  Redeemer's  cause.  She  seemed 
always  to  enjoy  his  presence  and  support,  so  that  all 
who  saw  her  took  knowledge  of  her  that  she  had  been 
with  Jesus. 

In  the  same  village,  there  lived  a  young  man  of  an 
honest  and  ardent  character,  but  entirely  destitute  of 
the  sanctifying  grace  of  God.  He  had  been  brought 
up  by  a  pious  relative,  and  was  intelligent  on  religious 
subjects,  but  his  heart  had  not  received  the  gospel. 
He  was  fond  of  finding  fault  with  professors  of  relig- 
ion, and  once  remarked  to  a  friend,  that  he  believed 

the  only  Christian  in  that  village  was  Mrs.  H , 

the  poor  woman  to  whom  we  have  referred. 

He  did  not  then  know  that  Mrs.  H was  pray- 
ing for  him  without  ceasing.  He  did  not  know  that 
she  had  called  others  together  to  pray  for  his  conver- 
sion, and  that  with  a  strong  faith  she  laid  hold  on  the 
promises  of  God  in  his  behalf. 

But  soon  he  felt  the  effects  of  these  prayers,  for  it 
seemed  as  if  a  sword  had  pierced  his  heart,  so  that  he 
could  not  keep  silence.     In  his  anguish  he  wrote  to 

Mrs.  H ,  and  entreated  her  to  pray  for  him.   God 

only  knows  with  what  thankfulness  and  joy  she  re- 
ceived his  letter.  She  did  continue  to  pray,  and  He 
on  whom  she  called  heard  and  answered.  The  young 
man  at  length  embraced  the  gospel  with  a  fervent 


332  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

heart,  and  began  to  sing  of  the  glory  and  sovereignty 
of  God. 

Nor  was  he  a  half-way  Christian.  A  voice  seemed 
ringing  in  his  ear,  "  Woe  is  unto  me,  if  I  preach  not 
the  gospel."  He  obeyed  that  voice,  and  when  he  stood 
in  the  pulpit,  the  love  that  was  in  his  heart  flashed 
from  his  eyes,  and  trembled  on  his  lips,  so  that  those 
who  heard  him  wondered  that  the  flame  should  so 
burn  within  him,  and  he  remain  unconsumed. 

He  was  indeed  in  labors  abundant,  and  God  bless- 
ed him  by  making  him  the  means  of  great  good  among 
the  people  where  his  lot  was  cast,  till,  at  the  age  of 
thirty-five,  he  was  called  up  to  receive  his  crown. 

"He  looked  always  wearied  when  he  was  here," 
said  his  weeping  wife;  "we  ought  to  be  willing  to 
have  him  rest."  The  rest  of  heaven.  He  caught  a 
glimpse  of  it,  as  he  breathed  his  last.  When  one  who 
stood  near  him  asked  if  all  was  peace ;  raising  his 
hand,  and  looking  upward  with  a  dying  effort,  he  an- 
swered, "  Peace,  and  joy  in  the  Holy  Ghost." 

S.  A. 


THE  THIRTY  YEARS'   PRAYER. 

At  the  weekly  prayer-meeting  in ,  an  aged 

wealthy  and  influential  man  entered,  who  during  a 
long  life  had  been  seemingly  indifferent  to  his  spirit- 
ual welfare;  and  to  the  surprise  of  all  present,  he 
rose,  under  deep  emotion,  and  asked  the  prayers  of 
God's  people  for  his  own  conversion.  The  next  week 
he  was  again  among  them,  apparently  a  penitent  at 
the  foot  of  the  cross. 

As  the  intelligence  of  his  hopeful  conversion  spread 


THE  THIRTY  YEARS'  PRAYER.  333 

next  day  in  the  congregation,  it  reached  an  infirm 
and  aged  Christian  who  liad  for  years  been  confined 
to  his  house,  and  was  daily  waiting  his  summons  to 
depart.  On  hearing  it,  he  -insisted  on  being  carried 
to  see  the  wealthy  man,  and  would  intrust  his  mes- 
sage to  no  one.  After  a  long  interview,  he  returned 
home  rejoicing. 

The  cause  of  the  infirm  man's  interest  in  this  visit 
was  perhaps  known  only  to  himself  and  his  venerable 
pastor.  Thirty  years  ago,  as  he  was  burning  coal  on 
the  mountain-side,  two  of  his  neighbors  visited  his  lit- 
tle shantee,  found  him  engaged  in  reading  his  Bible 
and  in  prayer,  and  joined  him  in  his  devotions.  Ere 
they  separated,  they  agreed  to  meet  again  the  next 
week  on  the  mountain  to  pray,  as  did  the  Saviour ; 
and  from  week  to  week  they  met  in  this  quiet  retreat, 
which  proved  indeed  a  Bethel.  One  evening  they 
spoke  of  their  wealthy  neighbor,  mourning  tliat  he 
was  living  for  this  world  only,  when  he  was  so  much 
needed  in  the  church  of  Christ ;  and  they  at  last 
entered  into  a  written,  secret  covenant  with  each 
other  before  God,  not  to  cease  praying  for  his  con- 
version until  he  should  be  brought  in  or  die,  or  they 
should  all  be  called  to  their  final  account. 

Years  of  prayer  passed  on,  during  which  their 
faith  failed  not :  one  of  the  suppliants  was  at  length 
called  home  ;  then  another  ;  and  the  old  coal-burner, 
though  left  alone,  yet  persevered.  Thirty  years  had 
passed  when  the  above,  news  reached  him  ;  his  visit 
was  made,  and  he  came  out  of  the  house  of  his 
wealthy  neighbor  saying,  "Now,  Lord,  lettest  thou 
thy  servant  depart  in  peace ;  for  mine  eyes  have  seen 
thy  salvation."  E.  t.  c. 


334  SKETCHES   FROM  LIFE. 

AX  AXGRY  CONTROVERSY  SETTLED. 

In  the  year  1831,  in  one  of  the  southern  states, 
there  existed  a  legal  controversy  between  two  neigh- 
bors, who  had  up  to  this  time  been  intimate  friends, 
and  soon  it  engendered  a  bitter  personal  animosity 
between  them,  and  alienated  their  respective  friends. 
Their  families  belonged  to  the  same  congregation, 
and-  their  wives  were  members  of  the  same  church, 
and  were  held  in  high  esteem  for  their  intelligence 
and  piety.  Considering  the  family  relations  of  the 
parties,  it  is  not  surprising  that  the  church  and  the 
community  should  be  seriously  agitated  by  this  quar- 
rel ;  and  that  it  proved  a  source  of  annoyance  and 
grief  not  only  to  Christians,  but  to  all  their  right- 
minded  neighbors. 

They  were  men  of  strong  nerve,  of  great  physical 
power,  and  distinguished  in  a  high  degree  by  what 
the  world  calls  courage.  Urged  on  by  pride,  ambi- 
tion, or  revenge,  the  contest  waxed  hotter  and  hotter, 
so  that  all  acquainted  with  the  circumstances  were  in 
constant  fear  of  a  bloody,  if  not  a  deadly  rencontre. 

One  of  the  parties  had  prepared  and  intended  to 
file  a  bill  in  chancery  within  the  next  ten  days,  which 
he  knew  would  greatly  irritate  his  antagonist,  and 
provoke  him  to  a  personal  assault,  when  the  case 
would  probably  have  been  settled  by  the  death  of  one 
or  both  of  them.  On  all  public  occasions  they  carried 
deadly  weapons. 

In  this  state  of  things  the  Lord  poured  out  his 
Spirit  upon  that  community ;  hundreds  of  minds  be- 
came impressed  with  religious  truth,  and  it  is  believed 
many  souls  were  truly  converted  to  God.     The  third 


AN  ANGRY  CONTROVERSY  SETTLED.       335 

Sabbath  in  June  is  a  day  to  be  held  in  everlasting 
remembrance  by  that  congregation.  On  that  day 
more  than  one  hundred  and  fifty  persons  presented 
themselves  as  inquirers  after  the  way  of  salvation, 
some  of  whom  then  and  there  sought  and  found  hope 
in  Christ.  These  two  litigants  were  present,  and 
were  smitten  and  wounded  by  the  sword  of  the  Spirit. 
"  The  strong  men  "  bowed  themselves,  and  at  the  close 
of  the  services  went  away  overwhelmed  with  a  sense 
of  their  guilt  and  ruin,  though  entirely  ignorant  of 
the  state  of  each  other's  minds. 

On  the  morrow  they  again  repaired  to  the  house 
of  the  Lord  ;  and  previous  to  the  commencement  of 
public  worship,  the  two  belligerents  providentially 
met  face  to  face,  wliile  walking  in  a  beautiful  grove 

near  the   church.     Mr.  first   spoke,   and   said, 

"  Captain ,  I  have  a  proposition  to  submit  to  you." 

The  "  captain,"  supposing  he  had  reference  to  the  suit 
that  was  to  be  tried  in  a  few  days,  replied  with  as 
much  coldness  and  hauteur  in  his  manner  as  he  could 
command,  "I  am  ready  to  hear  you,  sir ;  wliat  is  it?" 

Mr. ,  unable  any  longer  to  restrain  his  feelings, 

answered  with  the  deepest  emotion,  "It  is,  sir,  that 
we  cast  behind  us  our  follies  and  sins,  and  live  togeth- 
er from  this  day  as  neighbors  and  Christians." 

The  captain  was  subdued  and  unmanned  ;  in  a  mo- 
ment they  were  locked  in  each  other's  arras,  weeping 
like  little  children,  and  vieing  with  each  other  in  mak- 
ing acknowledgments  and  concessions.  They  were 
friends.  The  pious  rejoiced,  and  were  greatly  encour- 
aged in  the  work  of  the  Lord,  and  the  impenitent 
received  a  most  impressive  illustration  of  the  power 
and  value  of  the  Christian  religion,  and  manv  more 


336  SKETCHES  FROM   LIFE. 

sought  and  found  in  it  the  "pearl  of  great  price." 
The  lawsuit  was  settled  without  a  trial,  the  loaded 
pistols  were  uncharged  and  put  away  ;  and  henceforth 
they  lived  as  neiglibors  on  terras  of  amity. 

J.  D.  M, 


KEEP   TRYING. 

In  one  of  the  large  towns  in  Eastern  Virginia, 
there  lived  a  gentleman  with  an  interesting  family, 
much  respected  by  his  neighbors  and  friends,  but  lie 
was  inclined  to  be  sceptical  on  the  subject  of  the 
Christian  religion.  He  was  a  man  of  mind,  and  of 
more  than  ordinary  intelligence.  •  A  lingering  disease 
at  last  brought  him  down  to  his  bed,  and  his  Chris- 
tian friends  became  exceedingly  solicitous  in  reference 
to  his  salvation.  Various  attempts  were  made  to 
approach  him  on  tliat  subject ;  but  he  met  every  ad- 
vance with  a  cold  repulse  that  disheartened  his  friends, 
and  paralyzed  their  efforts. 

Among  others  that  felt  deeply  for  him,  and  prayed 
earnestly  for  his  conversion,  was  an  interesting  Chris- 
tian lady  who  lived  next  door  to  his  residence.  She 
was  often  in  his  room,  and  made  frequent  efforts  to 
draw  him  out  in  conversation  upon  the  subject  of 
religion,  but  was  nnsuccessful.  He  seemed  unhappy, 
but  lie  preserved  outward  cheerfulness,  and  kept  up 
tlie  impression  that  his  scepticism  was  unshaken  by 
the  hand  of  disease  and  the  near  approach  of  death. 

He  was  very  fond  of  reading,  and  constantly  kept 
by  him  some  book  that  served  to  beguile  his  weary 
hours.     When  he  grew  so  feeble  that  he  could  not 


KEEP  TRYING.  337 

read,  he  called  into  requisition  the  services  of  one  of 
liis  little  daughters,  who  sat  by  his  bedside  and  read 
for  him  bj  the  hour.  His  kind  friend,  the  good  lady 
at  the  next  door,  was  still  anxious  to  approach  him 
on  the  subject  of  religion,  but  without  success.  One 
day  she  entered  his  room  and  found  him  asleep.  A 
new  idea  struck  her.  She  returned  and  got  a  tract 
containing  a  solemn  appeal  to  a  sinner  in  prospect  of 
death,  which  she  carried  into  his  room,  laid  it  on  his 
pillow,  and  retired  as  softly  as  an  angel,  without 
waking  the  sleeping  man.  She  went  to  her  home  and 
prayed  that  some  good  might  come  of  it. 

By  and  by  he  awoke,  and,  apparently  by  chance, 
laid  his  hand  on  the  little  book.  Without  attempting 
to  examine  it  himself,  he  called  for  his  little  daugh- 
ter, who  was  in  an  adjoining  room,  to  come  and  read 
for  him.  She  flew  to  liis  bedside  and  commenced 
reading  it  to  lier  afflicted  father.  She  had  not  pro- 
ceeded far  before  his  eyes  filled  with  tears,  his  chin 
trembled,  and  liis  bosom  began  to  heave  with  emotion. 
The  voice  of  the  little  girl  trembled  as  she  saw  the 
eflfcct  upon  her  father,  but  she  continued  reading.  He 
asked  her  to  pause  for  a  moment,  and  tried  to  regain 
his  self-possession  ;  and  after  a  few  moments  told  her 
to  read  on.  She  did  so.  But  presently  his  feelings 
became  too  strong  for  concealment.  Tears  gushed 
from  his  eyes,  and  he  gave  way  to  violent  weeping. 
The  child  read  on,  as  slie  was  able ;  for  she  too  was 
sobbing  as  though  lier  little  heart  would  break. 

The  conviction  came  home  with  tremendous  power 
to  the  man's  heart,  that  he  was  a  sinner,  condemned 
by  God's  holy  law,  and  exposed  to  hell.  He  began 
to  pray.     The  Holy  Spirit  applied  divine  truth  to  his 

SLetfliM.  15 


338 


SKETCHES  FROM   LIFE. 


lieart  and  conscience ;  and  directly  he  sent  for  liis 
friend  at  the  next  door,  and  for  other  pious  persons, 
to  pray  for  him  and  instruct  him  in  the  way  of  salva- 
tion. He  confessed  his  sins,  and  tried  to  give  his 
heart  to  God.  The  minister  was  sent  for,  and  he  was 
taught  more  fully  the  way  of  life.  Before  that  man 
died,  his  friends  had  the  happiness  to  believe  that  he 
was  savingly  converted  by  faith  in  the  Son  of  God. 
Here  is  another  example  of  the  good  accomplished  by 
prayerful,  persevering  Christian  endeavors.  Never 
tire.  "  Try,  try  again."  When  all  else  had  failed, 
this  effort  succeeded.  J.  e.  e. 


THE  STONE  ROLLED  AWAY.  339 

THE   STONE   ROLLED   AWAY. 

In  1842,  an  unusual  seriousness  prevailed  in  one 
of  our  New  England  colleges ;  meetings  for  prayer 
were  held  in  different  rooms,  and  there  was  less  rude- 
ness and  levity  in  the  halls  and  about  the  college 
grounds. 

In  one  of  the  prayer-meetings  held  by  the  pious 
students  of  the  Senior  class,  it  was  determined  to 
make  a  direct  personal  appeal  to  each  of  their  uncon- 
verted class-mates.  It  fell  to  my  lot  to  converse  with 
one  who  had  been  a  master-spirit  among  the  ungodly, 
who  ridiculed  every  thing  serious,  and  in  fact  made  a 
mock  of  all  religion.  The  duty  was  declined,  as  I 
felt  that  I  was  altogether  inadequate  to  the  task.  I 
was  diffident,  slow  of  speech,  and  could  not  think  of 
approaching  one  whose  tongue  was  ever  ready  with 
biting  sarcasm  and  brutal  infidel  wit.  But  my  breth- 
ren would  not  excuse  me.  With  a  trembluig  heart  I 
consented,  though  with  little  faith  as  to  any  good 
result  flowing  from  the  interview. 

At  the  close  of  the  meeting  I  retired  to  my  room, 
and  falling  on  my  knees,  prayed  for  courage  and  argu- 
ments. I  determined  to  go  at  once  to  the  room  of  the 
irreligious  student :  on  approaching  his  door,  my  fear 
returned  and  almost  drove  me  away,  but  summoning 
resolution,  I  knocked,  and  entered.  Once  in  I  would 
gladly  have  been  out  again,  but  suddenly  the  thought 
arose,  this  is  but  a  man,  and  he  has  a  soul  of  unspeak- 
able value :  you  have  associated  with  him  for  nearly 
four  years,  and  have  never  introduced  the  subject  of 
personal  religion  ;  soon  you  are  to  separate,  do  not 
lose  this  opportunity  of  doing  him  good. 


340  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

With  a  silent  prayer,  the  object  of  my  visit  was 

introduced.     "I  am  come,  Mr.  V ,  to  confess  to 

you  my  unfaithfulness,  to  make  known  to  you  my  inter- 
est in  your  spiritual  welfare,  and  to  urge  you  to  give 
immediate  attention  to  the  concerns  of  the  soul."  Im- 
agine my  surprise  when  the  individual  from  whom  I 
expected  only  abuse,  took  me  by  the  hand,  and  with 
a  voice  broken  by  deep  emotion,  exclaimed,  "  Mr, 
W — ■-,  I  am  glad  to  see  you.  I  have  been  a  great 
sinner — will  you  pray  for  me?"  Both  sobbed  aloud. 
What  had  God  wrought?  "The  stone  was  rolled 
away  " — "  Saul  was  among  the  prophets."  That  inter- 
view of  an  hour  was  a  precious  one.     I  discovered 

that  V had  been  serious  for  some  time  ;  in  fact, 

that  he  was  studying  his  Bible  when  I  sought  admit- 
tance, and  had  been  wishing  that  some  one  of  his 
pious  class-mates  would  speak  to  him  on  religion, 
though  his  heart  was  too  proud  to  allow  him  to  seek 
an  interview.  For  the  remainder  of  his  college  life, 
V was  a  changed  man. 

Pious  young  men  in  literary  institutions  are  prone 
to  excuse  themselves  from  religious  effort  among  their 
companions,  from  fear  of  ridicule ;  these  fears  are 
often  groundless;  the  approach  of  a  warm  Christian 
heart  is  seldom  repulsed. 

The  path  of  duty  may  be  difficult  and  trying, 
but  difficulties  and  trials  vanish  as  one  advances. 
God  opens  doors,  disarms  prejudices,  and  softens 
liearts. 

0  that  the  pious  students  throughout  our  land 
might  be  faithful  to  their  divine  Master,  waiting  not 
for  the  completion  of  their  studies  before  they  seek 
the  salvation  of  men,  but  with  zeal  and  love  markin.a: 


BRANDS   PLUCKED  FROM   THE  FIRE.        341 

their  whole  course  of  study  Avith  efforts  for  the  con- 
version of  those  with  whom  they  are  so  intimately 
associated.  f.  b.  w. 


BRANDS   PLUCKED   FROM   THE   FIRE. 

In  the  spring  of  18-i7,  I  was  travelling  with  a 
brother  clergyman,  on  our  way  to  an  ecclesiastical 

meeting  in  P ,  Va.     Having  to  pass  through  tiie 

county  of  A ,  we  purposed  going  by  the  village 

at  the  court-house,  and  to  call  on  friends  there ;  but 
being  engaged  in  conversation,  we  passed  a  cross-road 
leading  to  the  court-house,  and  did  not  discover  our 
mistake  until  we  had  gone  several  miles,  when  it  was 
too  late  to  return.  While  we  reproached  ourselves 
for  our  inattention,  the  Lord  was  guiding  us. 

Wc  had  not  proceeded  far,  when  we  perceived  a 
house  on  fire  about  half  a  mile  distant.  The  younger 
of  the  two  put  his  horse  into  a  gallop,  and  soon  came 
up  to  the  tire.  It  was  a  log-house,  and  the  roof  was 
in  a  blaze  in  three  places.  On  entering  the  house,  he 
was  met  at  the  threshold  by  the  piteous  cry  of  an  old 
man,  who  was  lying  on  a  trundle-bed  in  one  corner, 
entirely  crippled  with  rheumatism,  and  as  helpless  as 
an  infant.  "  Oh,  sir,"  cried  he,  "  for  mercy's  sake,  take 
me  out,  or  I  shall  be  burned  up  alive!"  He  became  a 
little  more  calm  when  assured  that  he  was  not  in  im- 
mediate danger,  and  that  he  would  be  taken  care  of 
in  time.  In  the  loft  above  was  found  his  aged  wife, 
terror-stricken,  who  had  been  trying  in  vain  to  extin- 
guish the  fire  with  a  little  tin  bucket  half  full  of 
water,  and  a  small  gourd. 


342  SKETCHES   FROM  LIFE. 

As  soon  as  the  young  minister  found  an  axe,  he 
went  heartily  to  work  ;  and  after  knocking  off  a  large 
portion  of  the  roof,  succeeded  in  extinguishing  the  fire, 
and  had  the  pleasure  of  assuring  the  old  couple  that 
the  danger  was  over,  and  all  was  safe.  They  express- 
ed their  gratitude  with  flowing  tears  and  many  excla- 
mations of  thanks.  The  minister  told  them  to  give 
thanks  to  God,  whose  providence  alone  had  saved 
them — that  they  intended  to  have  taken  another  road, 
but  had  been  led  this  way. 

"Wonderful  mercy!"  said  the  old  man  ;  and  trem- 
bling and  turning  pale  at  the  thought,  he  added,  "  Oh, 
had  you  gone  by  the  court-house,  we  by  this  time 
should  have  been  burned  to  ashes.  What  a  mercy, 
what  a  mercy !"  he  continued  to  repeat ;  and  said, 
"  Oh,  how  wicked  I  have  been !  I  have  never  believed 
in  a  providence.  I  laughed  at  it,  and  hated  the 
thought  that  God  took  any  notice  of  us ;  but  now  I 
feel  there  is  a  Providence.  Yes,  there  is  a  Providence 
that  sent  you  here  to  save  us  from  the  fire." 

He  then  inquired  who  wo  were,  and  where  from ; 
and  when  told  that  we  were  ministers  of  the  gospel, 
and  that  one  of  us  lived  twenty-five  miles,  and  the 
other  one  hundred  miles  distant,  he  was  deeply  affect- 
ed, and  said,  "How  strange  it  is!  I  have  always 
hated  ministers,  and  would  not  permit  them  to  cross 
my  door-sill ;  and  now  God  has  sent  two  of  them  to 
save  such  an  old  vile,  crippled  creature  as  I  am  froui 
death !"  He  began  to  confess  the  sins  of  his  past  life, 
and  particularly  expressed  regret  that  he  had  so  long 
opposed  his  wife,  who,  he  said,  always  wanted  to  be  a 
Christian.  He  had  been  a  soldier  in  Wayne's  army ; 
and  there,  he  said,  he  had  learned  to  drink  liquor,  to 


BRANDS  PLUCKED  FROM  THE  FIRE.        343 

scoff  at  religion,  and  to  make  Tom  Paine's  book  his 
bible ;  and  "  now,*'  said  he,  "  I  begin  to  feel  the  guilt 
of  it  all ;  it  comes  upon  me  like  a  mountain  load." 

They  were  told  that  their  sins  had  kindled  the 
more  dreadful  fire  of  perdition,  from  which  no  human 
arm  could  save ;  and  they  were  both  urged  to  flee 
from  the  wrath  to  come,  and  lay  hold  on  the  hand 
that  was  nailed  to  the  cross. 

A  tract  entitled,  '"The  Conversion  of  John  Price," 
was  then  read  to  them.  It  contains  a  brief  notice  of 
the  downward  course  of  an  habitual  drinker  and 
gamester,  and  of  his  wonderful  reformation  and  con- 
version to  God.  One  of  the  most  touching  passages 
in  the  tract  is  that  in  which  he  asks  his  little  daughter 
to  read  the  Bible  to  him.  She  read  the  fifty-first  and 
one  hundred  and  third  Psalms.  The  father  was  much 
affected,  and  wept,  and  said,  '"  Surely,  God  made  her 
choose  those  two  psalms." 

The  old  couple,  both  in  tears,  listened  to  the  read- 
ing, and  when  it  was  completed  he  said,  "  Surely,  God 
made  you  choose  that  tract  for  us — every  word  of  it 
comes  home  to  my  heart ;  and  now  will  you  be  kind 
enough  to  read  to  us  the  same  chapters  of  the  Bible 
that  the  little  girl  read  to  her  father?"  The  request 
was  gladly  complied  with,  and  the  fifty-first  Psalm 
was  read,  "Have  mercy  upon  me,  0  God,"  etc.  It 
was  read  very  distinctly  and  slowly.  There  he  lay 
upon  his  bed,  a  man  of  large  frame,  with  a  finely 
developed  head,  a  high  and  full  forehead,  a  large  blue 
eye,  and  expanded  chest,  but  with  his  arms  and  legs 
so  contracted  by  rheumatism,  that  for  sixteen  years 
he  had  been  unable  to  move  himself  without  aid  ;  and 
as  the  reading  proceeded,  his  broad  cliest  began  to 


344  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

heave  with  emotion,  and  the  tears  ran  down  his 
cheeks  in  a  stream.  On  hearing  the  fourth  verse, 
"  Against  thee,  thee  only  have  I  sinned,"  he  cried  out, 
"  0  yes,  that  is  the  worst  of  it ;  it  is  all  against 
God — all  against  God.  Have  mercy  upon  me,  0 
God!"  He  became  more  composed  as  the  reading 
was  continued ;  and  when  it  was  finished  he  said,  in 
a  low,  subdued  tone,  "That  is  God's  word,  and  seems 
made  on  purpose  for  me." 

His  aged  wife,  who  was  filled  with  wonder  and 
delight  at  what  she  had  both  seen  and  heard,  asked 
that  the  other  Psalm  miglit  be  read.  The  hundred 
and  third  Psalm  was  accordingly  read,  "Bless  the 
Lord,  0  my  soul,"  etc.  The  old  lady  was  greatly 
agitated  ;  she  walked  up  and  down  the  room  exclaim- 
ing, " '  Bless  the  Lord,  0  my  soul !'  bless  the  Lord ; 
he  has  saved  us  this  day  from  fire,  and  will  save  us 
from  our  sins  ;  he  forgiveth  all  our  iniquities!  Bless 
the  Lord  that  I  have  lived  to  see  this  day.  My  old 
man  will  now  let  me  read  and  sing  and  pray  :  he  will 
let  ministers  come  to  our  house ;  and  we  will  both 
seek  and  serve  tlie  Lord  together."  After  much  such 
talk,  we  kneeled  and  prayed — the  first  prayer,  as  the 
old  man  said,  that  was  ever  made  in  that  house. 

We  bade  them  farewell,  not  expecting  to  meet 
them  again  until  the  judgment-day.  The  old  couple 
lived  about  three  years  after  this  event,  and  we  are 
credibly  informed  that  they  lived  in  a  manner  to 
illustrate  and  magnify  the  wondrous  grace  of  God 
to  the  chief  of  sinners,  and  then  died  both  in  the 
same  year,  fully  fourscore  years  of  age,  in  the  faith 
and  lively  hopes  of  the  gospel  of  Christ. 

J.  D.  M. 


A  IIAITY  MISTAKL'.  G45 


A   HAPPY   MISTAKE. 


The  licart  of  Miss  Y ,  who  was  afflicted  witli 

deafness,  had  been  deeply  moved  to  a  sense  of  the 
danger  of  the  unconverted.  Receiving  a  call  from  a 
young  lady,  an  impenitent  friend  of  hers,  and  acting 
according  to  her  quickened  sense  of  duty  and  her 
yearnings  for  the  safety  of  her  friend,  slic  urged  her 
to  yield  herself  to  God,  and  accept  the  great  atone- 
ment,    ^liss  E listened  politely  for  a  time ;  but 

the  subject  was  irksome  to  her,  and  seeing  a  piano  in 
the  room,  she  thought  to  cliangc  the  conversation  by 

saying  abruptly  to  Miss  Y ,  "  Will  you  play  for 

me?"  Miss  Y ,  from  her  defective  hearing,  sup- 
posed her  friend  had  asked  her  to  pray  for  her,  as 

Miss  E made  tlie  request  soon  after  having  been 

asked  to  pray  for  herself.     With  glad  surprise  Miss 

Y knelt  beside  her,  but  had  scarcely  begun  a 

prayer  before  a  conviction  of  her  mistake  flashed 
across  her  mind.  Instantly  there  followed  the  thought, 
"  This  is  from  God  f  and  recovering  from  her  embar- 
rassment, she  pleaded  for  the  descent  of  the  Spirit 
upon  the  heart  of  her  friend. 

At  the  close  of  her  prayer,  Miss  E seemed  in 

much  distress  of  mind,  and  soon  after  left  the  house. 

The  next  morning,  before  nine  o'clock,  Miss  Y 

discovered  Miss  E approaching  the  gate.    It  was 

a  bleak,  chilly  morning  early  in  March,  and  the  snow 

was  still  quite  deep.   Miss  E entered  with  a  heart 

so  burdened  with  a  sense  of  sin  as  not  to  allow  her  to 

say  any  thing  except,  "  Oh,  I  am  so  unhajypy  /"'     Then 

followed  an  interview  of  the  deepest  interest.     Her 

15* 


346  SKETCHES  FROM   LIFE. 

distress  continued  two  or  tlirec  days,  and  then  slie 
trusted  in  a  forgiving  Saviour.    From  that  hour,  Miss 

Y 's  affliction  has  seemed  to  her  to  possess  more 

of  the  brightness  of  a  blessing,  and  she  rejoices  in  the 
dealings  of  that  infinite  wisdom  which  "doeth  all 
things  well."  C. 


AN   AGED   SINNER. 

Mrs.  F had  started  on  an  errand  of  mercy, 

when  she  met  an  aged  female  groping  her  way.  She 
was  a  wretched-looking  object,  bent  with  age,  and 

clothed  with  tattered  garments.     Mrs.  F had 

passed  her,  but  conscience  whispered  that  she  might 
be  losing  an  opportunity  of  doing  good  and  relieving 
suffering,  and  she  retraced  her  steps. 

"My  friend,"  she  said  to  her  kindly,  "you  seem 
very  aged  and  infirm."  "  If  I  see  the  seventeenth  of 
next  month,  I  shall  be  ninety-two."    "That  is  a  great 

age,"  said  Mrs.  F .     "  And  is  your  soul  at  peace 

with  God?"  "Who  asks  about  my  soul?"  she  ex- 
claimed. "  You  are  the  first  person  that  ever  spoke 
to  me  about  it.  I  cannot  see  you  well,  for  I  am  so 
blind,  but  go  with  me  and  talk."  Mrs.  F deter- 
mined not  to  defer  the  opportunity,  and  accompanied 
the  old  woman  to  her  miserable  home.  She  found 
her  the  inmate  of  a  low,  wretched  family,  who  board- 
ed her  for  the  reni  of  the  hovel  they  occupied,  which 
belonged  to  her  son  in  an  adjacent  city.  From  the 
family  the  old  woman  suffered  the  most  unkind  treat- 
ment. So  long  had  the  voice  of  kindness  been  a 
stranger  to  her  ear,  that  she  was  deeply  affected  by 
it,  and  seemed  not  only  willing  but  anxious  to  hear, 


AN  AGED  SINNER.  34T 

while  Mrs.  F talked  to  her  of  Jesus,  and  his  love 

for  ruined  man.  She  had  wonderfully  retained  her 
mind  for  one  of  her  years,  and  was  not  so  ignorant 
as  she  was  hardened  in  vice,  for  in  childhood  she  had 
been  instructed  in  her  Bible,  and  its  blessed  precepts 
were  not  wholly  forgotten.  What  encouragement  to 
parents  to  sow  the  seed. 

Mrs.  F ,  upon  inquiry,  learned  much  of  her 

history.  A  wayward  youth  and  ungovernable  temper, 
that  had  driven  husband  and  children  from  her  ;  a  life 
of  infamy  for  twenty-five  years,  followed  by  wretched- 
ness and  poverty ;  discarded  by  the  respectable  friends 
and  family  to  whom  she  belonged,  and  disowned  by 
her  son,  she  was  reaping  the  bitter  wages  of  sin  when 

met  by  our  good  Samaritan  Mrs.  F .  whose  first 

efforts  were  to  relieve  her  bodily  wants,  while  she  did 
not  neglect  her  still  greater  spiritual  need. 

Daily  did  Mrs.  F visit  the  aged  sinner,  read- 
ing and  praying  with  her,  though  the  family  who  pro- 
fessed to  take  care  of  her  often  insulted  Mrs.  F 

wdth  coarse  language,  and  even  interrupted  her  while 
she  knelt  to  pray ;  but  she  heeded  them  not,  for  she 
was  engaged  about  a  great  work,  under  God,  "  saving 
a  soul  from  death."  Christian  friends,  too,  remon- 
strated with  her  upon  expending  so  much  effort  upon 
such  a  hopeless  case,  and  the  impropriety  of  visiting 
so  bad  a  character.  She  only  replied,  "The  more 
wicked  she  is,  the  more  faith  and  effort  she  requires." 
Amidst  all  the  discouragements  in  her  labor  of  love, 
she  persevered,  until  God  saw  fit  to  bless  her  by  send- 
ing the  Holy  Spirit  to  enlighten  her  darkened  mind, 
and  break  the  bondage  of  sin  which  had  so  long  bound 
her.     The  work  seemed  a  very  gradual  one,  but  not 


348  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

the  less  sure.  She  was  permitted  to  live  long  enough 
to  manifest  the  wonder-working  power  of  God. 

A  year  from  the  day  Mrs.  F first  met  her,  she 

was  called  to  stand  by  her  death-bed,  and  hear  her 
rejoice  in  the  love  of  Jesus.  Her  last  words  were,  "  I 
am  a  great,  great  sinner,  but  Jesus  is  a  great,  great 
Saviour ;  glory  be  to  his  name."  What  a  reward  for 
a  short  year  of  prayer  and  effort  was  this !  -  Fellow- 
Christian,  go  thou  and  do  likewise  ;  be  not  discour- 
aged.   Remember,  "  with  God  all  things  are  possible." 

H. 


ANSWER  TO   UNITED   PRAYER. 

On  the  20th  of  October,  1799,  twenty-four  persons 
joined  a  church  in  New  England,  of  whom  four  youth 
were  intimate  friends.  One  of  them  married  a  worthy 
young  man,  and  another  a  virtuous  young  woman,  and 
the  other  two  had  each  a  father,  none  of  wliom  Averc 
pious ;  and  they  agreed  on  a  concert  of  prayer  for 
each  other,  and  for  their  relatives. 

They  knew  what  they  wanted ;  it  was  the  life  of 
the  soul  for  which  their  united  and  earnest  cries  con- 
tinued to  ascend.  But  it  was  not  in  a  day,  or  a  we6k, 
or  a  month,  or  a  year,  that  they  obtained  what  they 
greatly  longed  for.  To  cheer  them  when  almost 
ready  to  faint,  a  letter  from  one  of  the  four  announc- 
ed to  two  at  a  distance,  that  his  wife  was  rejoicing  in 
hope  of  the  glory  of  God.  This  news  called  forth 
joyful  thanksgivings.  Some  few  years  passed  on,  and 
the  young  man  that  had  been  the  subject  of  these 
united  intercessions  gave  signs  of  spiritual  life,  which 
again  thrilled  their  hearts  with  holy  gratitude  and  joy. 


A   DEAF  HEARER.  349 

But  the  case  of  the  two  aged  fathers  was  more 
trying.  Increasing  hardness  made  faith  stagger ; 
and  often  did  the  fear  arise  that  their  day  was  past. 
About  twelve  years  thus  rolled  on ;  one  was  more 
than  fifty,  and  the  other  more  than  sixty  years  of  age. 
Suddenly,  at  length  a  friend  wrote  to  the  son  at  a 
distance,  that  his  aged  father  had  apparently  awaked 
from  the  long  slumber  of  a  state  of  sin,  and  given 
evidence  of  conversion.  This  was  as  "life  from  the 
dead  ;"  this  was  a  rebuke  to  unbelief.  More  earnestly 
did  the  friends  ply  the  throne  of  grace;  and  what 
was  their  joy,  when  about  twenty  years  from  the  time 
that  the  concert  commenced,  the  other  aged  father, 
more  than  threescore  and  ten,  was  baptized  into  the 
name  of  the  Father,  and  of  the  Son,  and  of  the  Holy 
Ghost. 

"Will  not  young  Christians  go  and  do  likewise, 
with  only  this  word  of  exhortation.  Have  more  faith  ' 
in  God  ;  pray  more  in  the  Spirit,  and  hope  more  con- 
fidently in  the  promise  that  it  shall  be  done  for  you, 
if  you  ask  any  thing  according  to  his  will. 

E.  Y. 


A   DEAF   HEARER. 

Mr.  B was  not  born  deaf,  yet  he  did  not  hear  ; 

he  afterwards  became  deaf,  and  then  he  heard.  How 
is  this?  In  all  the  years  of  his  outward  hearing,  liis 
life  was  deeply  estranged  from  God,  and  no  heavenly 
voice  penetrated  his  heart  to  unstop  its  utler  deafness. 
The  precepts,  "Hear,  ye  deaf,"  and  "Ephphatha,  Be 
opened,"  were  unheeded.  He  liad  ears  to  hear,  but 
did  not  hear.     But  when  deprived  of  his  natural  liear- 


350  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

ing,  the  Holy  Spirit  removed  the  deafness  of  his  heart, 
and  he  had  ever-listening  ears  to  hear  what  God  the 
Lord  would  say.  By  embracing  the  Christian  faitli, 
he  received  a  new  life,  new  hearing,  new  understand- 
ing, and  long  and  worthily  maintained  the  Christian 
course. 

He  was  still  deaf  to  the  recitals  of  Christian  expe- 
rience from  others,  but  felt  its  blessed  power  in  him- 
self, and  disclosed  it  to  their  joyful  edification.  He 
never  heard  a  sermon,  or  a  prayer,  or  a  hymn  of  praise, 
during  his  religious  life ;  but  the  sanctuary,  and  the 
social  meetings  of  Christians,  were  often  to  him  as  the 
open  gate  of  heaven.  He  could  hear  no  sound  of  his 
own  voice ;  and  when  he  spoke,  he  feared  that  no  one 
would  understand  his  broken  speech  ;  yet  he  audibly 
and  with  great  delight  read  the  holy  Scriptures,  con- 
ducted the  stated  family  worship,  and  intelligently 
and  earnestly  addressed  his  brethren  upon  the  great 
things  of  the  kingdom  of  God.  He  often  complained 
of  great  barrenness  of  soul,  and  what  he  termed  an 
empty-head  religion,  in  distinction  from  a  living  and 
glorious  devotion  of  the  heart ;  while  you  would  have 
judged  him  to  be  unusually  deep,  spiritual,  and  abound- 
ing in  the  Christian  exercises.  He  keenly  felt  his 
deprivation,  and  especially  in  its  obstruction  to  Chris- 
tian intercourse,  yet  he  bore  it  with  submission,  and 
expected  to  pass  all  his  remaining  days  upon  the 
earth  shut  up  in  this  profound  silence. 

But,  deaf  and  faithful  Christian,  be  cheered.  Re- 
joice that  the  ear  of  your  heart  has  been  opened  to 
hearken  to  the  word  of  the  Lord.  Rejoice  that  the 
blessed  Bible  is  still  your  constant  and  divine  preacher. 
Rejoice  that  the  Spirit  of  God  unfolds  to  you  glories 


A  SCEPTICAL  CAPTAIN.  351 

that  the  mere  external  ear  of  man  hath  never  heard. 
Rejoice  that  you  are  yet  to  share  in  the  finished  beati- 
tude, where  the  ears  of  the  deaf  shall  be  for  ever 
unstopped,  and  the  tongue  of  the  stammerer  shall  sing 
the  new  and  everlasting  song.  c.  b.  D. 


A   SCEPTICAL  CAPTAIN. 

In  1845,  when  passing  from  Buffalo  to  Detroit,  I 
was  led  into  an  interesting  conversation  with  the 
captain  of  the  steam-boat.  He  had  been  long  engaged 
in  navigating  the  lakes,  and  related  many  valuable 
incidents  of  the  early  commerce  of  those  inland  seas. 
A  casual  remark  indicated  that  his  views  of  religion 
were  sceptical.  This  led  to  a  protracted  discussion, 
lasting  most  of  the  night,  and  ending  in  the  promise 
that  ho  would  carefully  read  a  copy  of  Nelson's 
incomparable  work,  the  "  Cause  and  Cure  of  Infidel- 
ity." In  a  very  courteous  manner  he  declined  receiv- 
ing payment  for  my  passage,  and  expressed  much 
gratitude  for  the  interest  taken  in  his  spiritual  well- 
being. 

Five  years  afterwards,  I  took  a  steamer  at  San- 
dusky on  the  route  eastward.  At  a  crowded  break- 
fast-table, when  seated  in  an  unusual  position  in  con- 
versation with  a  travelling  companion,  a  gentleman 
at  my  right  hand  interposed  a  remark  which  recalled 
at  once  the  intelligence  respecting  lake  navigation 
received  from  the  infidel  captain.  I  turned  inquir- 
ingly, and  exclaimed,  "  This  must  be  captain ." 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  for  the  first  time  observing  my  fea- 
tures ;  "  and  you  are  the  man  who  gave  me  the  books.^* 


352  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

Our  surprise  and  gratification  were  mutual.  The 
remainder  of  the  trip  to  Buffalo  was  spent  in  conver- 
sation about  the  one  theme  of  salvation.  He  seemed 
to  have  been  placed  again  providentially  within  my 
reach.  For*two  years  or  more  he  had  not  been  upon 
the  lake  till  this  excursion ;  and  I  had  crossed  it  but 
once  during  the  intervening  five  years.  Had  his  seat 
at  table  been  elsewhere  than  the  one  he  chose,  or  had 
the  conversation  taken  another  drift,  we  should  not 
have  recognized  eacli  other,  and  the  opportunity  would 
have  been  lost.  As  it  was,  I  endeavored  to  make  the 
most  of  it.  I  learned  that  he  had  abandoned  his 
infidelity,  but  was  still  resting  in  some  speculative 
errors  from  which  I  sought  to  dislodge  his  mind, 
leading  him  to  the  atoning  almighty  Saviour  as  his 
only  resource.  As  we  entered  Buffalo  harbor,  I  again 
placed  in  his  hands  appropriate  books,  which  he  re- 
ceived with  many  thanks,  and  the  remark,  "Sir,  I 
will  read  any  thing  you  give  me."  Our  next  meeting 
will  be  at  the  judgment-bar,  in  all  human  probability. 
May  it  be  at  the  right  hand  of  the  Judge. 

There  is  a  providence  choosing  our  changes,  direct- 
ing our  courses,  and  appointing  our  opportunities  of 
usefulness.  Happy  the  man  who  closely  eyes  it,  and 
implicitly  follows  its  indications. 

Christian  travellers  are  specially  bound  to  seek 
the  spiritual  good  of  captains  and  crews  of  the  craft 
on  which  they  sail.  Their  occupation  leads  them 
away  from  the  sanctuary  and  the  means  of  grace,  and 
they  are  peculiarly  liable  to  be  neglected  and  lost, 
but  for  friendly  interposition. 

A  careful  selection  of  religious  books  and  tracts 
should  as  much  form  a  part  of  the  luggage  of  a  Chris- 


AN  INQUIRING  JEW.  353 

tian  traveller  as  his  dressing-case.  They  arc  always 
useful — often  indispensable.  He  Avho  would  reap 
bountifully,  must  sow  bountifully,  and  beside  all  wa- 
ters. Let  every  Christian  be  supplied  with  the  seed, 
and  the  providence  of  God  will  provide  the  opportu- 
nity of  sowing  it  where  it  will  take  root  and  bear 
fruit  unto  eternal  life.  Iicbcr. 


AN  INQUIRING   JEW. 

Among  the  passengers  from  Detroit  to  Buffalo  in 
a  steamer  on  lake  Erie,  was  a  lady  who,  in  a  casual 
remark  on  some  subject  of  religious  interest,  attracted 
the  attention  of  one  or  two  clergymen,  and  they  im- 
mediately entered  into  conversation  with  her.  Some 
of  the  important  points  of  Christian  belief — the  sin- 
ner's responsibility,  God's  powder  and  willingness  to 
save — were  discussed,  when  the  lady  observed  a  stran- 
ger advancing  towards  her  party,  and  listening  with 
much  apparent  interest  to  their  conversation  on  gos- 
pel themes.  All  nations  and  tribes  were  spoken  of 
as  belonging  to  one  family,  through  Jesus  the  elder 
Brother.  The  Jews  in  particular  were  mentioned  as 
being  objects  of  hope  and  desire  to  the  church,  cast  oil' 
now  by  their  unbelief,  yet  destined  to  a  linal  and  com- 
plete restoration. 

The  stranger's  countenance  brightened,  and  bend- 
ing forward  he  eagerly  exclaimed,  "  I  am  a  Jew  ;  and 
our  nation  think  not  so  lightly  of  your  Jesus  as  you 
suppose ;  we  consider  him  a  good  man." 

"If  he  is  no  more  than  a  man,"  said  the  lady,  "he 
cannot  be  good,  for  he  '  made  himself  equal  with  God.' 


354  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

There  is  no  middle  ground ;  he  is  either  the  long- 
promised  Messiah,  or  a  vile  impostor." 

"  What  shall  we  Jews  believe  ?"  said  the  stranger. 
"If  we  credit  the  Old  Testament,  and  listen  to  the 
rabbles,  we  are  taught  that  all  will  be  well," 

"But  do  you  read  your  old  Testament?"  said  the 
lady.  "That  is  by  no  means  silent  with  regard  to 
our  Saviour.  'They  shall  look  unto  Ilim  whom  they 
have  pierced,'  is  but  one  among  very  many  passages 
pointing  to  him." 

"  But  we  who  are  so  deeply  immersed  in  business," 
said  the  stranger,  "  have  no  time  to  study  these  things 
for  ourselves.  We  follow  the  example,  and  receive 
the  faith  of  our  fathers." 

"But,"  said  the  lady,  "if  your  Bible  is  what  it 
professes  to  be,  is  it  not  worthy  of  your  time,  atten- 
tion, and  heart?  Should  not  its  laws  govern  you,  its 
promises  attract,  and  its  threatenings  terrify  you  ? 
Let  me  ask  you,  if  you  would  consider  it  wise,  in  your 
common  affairs,  to  sacrifice  the  greater  interest  to  the 
less?  Is  it  more  wise  to  overlook  eternal  things  in 
the  less  important  or  trifling  pursuits  of  this  short 
life?" 

"  Ah,"  said  the  Jew,  "  I  know  not  what  to  think. 
My  teachers  tell  me  one  thing,  and  you  tell  me  an- 
other." 

The  lady  thought  a  moment,  and  said  earnestly, 
"I  will  tell  you  what  to  do,  read  your  own  Bible 
attentively,  studiously,  and  pray  God  to  lead  you  in 
the  right  way,  to  show  you  what  is  truth.  Make  it 
the  grand  business  of  your  life  to  find  out  whether 
Jesus  is  your  Saviour  or  no." 

The  stranger  looked  as  if  struck  with  a  new  idea, 


MR.  BINGHAM  AND  HIS  NEIGHBOR.         355 

and  the  lady  thought  there  was  some  hope  for  him,  as 
it  was  so  evident  that  his  heart  was  not  entirely  cal- 
lous. It  made  her  deeply  serious  to  reflect  that  she 
had  never  before  seen  this  poor  Jew,  and  that  very 
soon  they  would  part  to  meet  no  more,  until  it  should 
be  before  the  tribunal  of  that  Messiah  who  on  the  day 
of  triumph  will  bear  about  him  the  scars  of  his  con- 
flict and  death.  M.  a.  h. 


MR.   BINGHAM  AND   HIS  NEIGHBOR. 

More  than  twenty   years   ago,  Mr.  Bingham  of 

C ,  in  the  state  of  Vermont,  then  an  old  man — 

now,  I  trust,  in  heaven — gave  me  the  following  narra- 
tive : 

"  When  I  first  came  to  this  town  in  my  youth,  Mr. 

L came  with  me,  and  we  pitched  our  tents  here 

in  the  wilderness,  not  far  from  each  other.  Here  wc 
lived  and  labored,  side  by  side,  for  many  years. 

"Soon  after  our  settlement  in  C ,  it  was  my 

happy  lot  to  be  led  to  embrace  the  Saviour.  But  my 
neighbor  L — —  remained  as  he  was,  unreconciled  to 
God,  without  hope,  and  even  manifesting  a  marked 
opposition  to  spiritual  religion,  till  he  removed  about 
three  miles  from  me,  when  I  had  fewer  opportunities 
to  see  him  and  converse  with  him  ;  and  at  length  had 
almost  ceased  to  think  of  him,  with  solicitude  for  his 
salvation. 

"One  evening,  during  a  season  of  the  outpouring 
of  the  Spirit,  as  I  was  casting  my  thoughts  over  the 
town,  before  the  hour  of  family  prayer,  the  case  of 
this  former  neighbor  came  to  mind,  and  deeply  inter- 


356  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

csted  my  feelings.  After  prayer  I  retired,  but  sleep 
departed  from  my  eyes  ;  my  mind  was  too  active,  and 
my  emotions  too  powerful  to  sleep.  An  apprehension 
of  the  lost  condition  of  my  friend,  and  of  his  exposure 
to  death  and  the  judgment,  with  a  sense  of  my  neglect 
of  opportunities  to  warn  him  of  his  danger,  pressed 
so  heavily  upon  me,  that  I  could  not  rest  in  bed.  I 
retired  into  a  grove,  where  I  walked  and  meditated 
and  prayed,  till  I  felt  an  inexpressible  desire  to  sec 
him,  and  once  more  converse  with  him  on  the  things 
which  concerned  his  'everlasting  peace.' 

"  It  was  a  beautiful  night.  The  autumnal  air  was 
soft  and  balmy.  The  moon  shone  with  peculiar  bright- 
ness. All  nature  seemed  to  be  resting  in  silence.  I 
saddled  my  horse,  and  rode  slowly  towards  the  resi- 
dence of  my  friend,  which  I  reached  about  two  o'clock.  ^ 
Under  impressions  which  it  would  be  in  vain  to  at- 
tempt to  describe,  I  knocked  at  his  door,  and  requested 
a  short  interview.  I  related  to  him,  as  well  as  I 
could,  the  object  and  occasion  of  ray  untimely  visit ; 
and  no  sooner  did  I  begin  to  speak,  than  the  tears 
began  to  flow  from  his  eyes — eyes  which  had  probably 
never  before  wept  for  sin,  or  looked  up  for  pardon 
and  salvation.  Apparently  under  the  deepest  convic- 
tion of  sin,  and  with  a  full  apprehension  of  the  danger 
of  his  case,  he  besought  me  to  pray  with  him,  and  for 
him. 

"The  result  was  a  marked  and  happy  change — a 
subsequent  consecration  of  himself  to  the  service  of 
God — a  life,  for  a  few  years,  of  habitual  obedience  to 
the  divine  will,  a  triumphant  faith  in  the  hour  of 
death,  and  an  assured  hope  of  a  blessed  immortality." 

J.  n. 


A   DIFFICULTY   OVERCOME.  357 

A   DIFFICULTY   OVERCOME. 

It  is  a  delightful  thought,  that  all  who  have  been 
given  to  Christ  shall  come  to  him  :  not  of  themselves, 
not  always  in  paths  of  their  own  selection,  not  always 
with  open  eyes,  and  knowing  whither  tliey  go.  Still, 
though  astray,  averse,  and  blind,  they  all  come  to  the 
Shepherd  of  their  souls. 

A  teaclier  in  one  of  our  cities  called  upon  his  pas- 
tor. It  was  evening,  and  tlic  clergyman  was  just  about 
leaving  the  house  to  attend  a  meeting.  The  teacher 
soon  made  known  his  errand.  "I  have  come,  sir,  to 
ask  you  to  visit  my  school  and  pray  with  the  pupils. 
The  Holy  Spirit  is  evidently  there ;  many  of  the  older 
scholars  are  asking  me  what  they  shall  do.  I  am  not 
a  Christian  myself.  I  know  not  what  to  say  to  them. 
Will  you  not  come  over  to  guide  these  inquiring  souls 
to  the  Saviour?"' 

"Xo,  sir,"  said  the  pastor;  "yours  is  a  public 
school.  No  pastor  of  any  one  congregation  can  law- 
fully take  the  charge  of  its  religious  instructions.  I 
cannot  go." 

"  What  shall  be  done,  then  ?"  inquired  the  teacher. 

"Mr.  P ,"  said  the  pastor,  "God  has  at  length 

brought  you  where  you  cannot  excuse  yourself  from 
duty.  All  your  life  you  have  been  evading  responsi- 
bility: now  it  has  come  upon  you,  and  you  cannot 
escape  from  it.  These  children  are  in  your  hands. 
You,  and  you  alone  are  to  guide  them  to  Christ.  No 
pastor  in  the  city  can  enter  that  school.  God  has 
drawn  you  into  a  strait  place.  You  must  not  decline 
the  work  to  whieli  he  so  manifestly  calls  you.'" 

"I  cannot  do  what  you  recommend.     I  am  not  a 


358  SKETCHES  FROM   LIFE. 

Christian."     "Mr.  P ,  your   duty  is  pkin.     You 

can  trust  in  Christ  for  mercy,  and  lie  can  and  will 
help  yon.  Promise  me  that  you  will  begin  to-morrow 
to  pray  with  these  pupils,  and  try  to  guide  them  to 
Christ." 

The  teacher  was  standing,  his  hand  in  the  hand  of 
his  pastor,  his  face  pale,  his  whole  frame  quaking  with 
emotion.  "  You  must  not  contend  against  God,"  said 
the  pastor.  "  1  will  try,"  stammered  the  trembling 
man,  and  left  the  house. 

The  next  day  witnessed  a  new  scene  in  that  school, 
teacher  and  pupils  praying  and  weeping  together. 
The  evening  of  the  second  day  saw  the  teacher  walk- 
ing his  room  in  great  agitation,  till  at  a  late  hour  he 
suddenly  turned  to  his  sweet  and  anxious  wife,  and 
said,  ''  Mary,  let  us  try  to  pray."  The  family  altar 
was  established.  A  few  weeks  passed,  and  the  teach- 
er was  at  the  table  of  Christ,  thanking  God  that  that 
visit  to  the  pastor  had  been  the  journey  of  a  blind  soul 
led  on  its  way  to  the  gates  of  life.  c. 


A  FOOL  ANSWERED. 

During  the  month  of  November,  1843,  I  was  trav- 
elling in  one  of  the  night-trains  from  Albany  to  Utica. 
The  weather  being  very  cold,  the  passengers  gathered 
as  closely  as  possible  around  the  stove.  Among  the 
number  thus  brought  into  juxtaposition  were  a  cler- 
gyman and  an  atheist ;  and  as  the  latter  was  very 
loquacious,  he  soon  engaged  the  minister  in  a  contro- 
versy touching  the  relative  merits  of  their  respective 
systems.     They  soon  became  much  excited,  and  thus 


TAKING  THE  RIGHT  GROUND.  359 

continued  to  dispute,  to  the  great  annoyance  of  all 
present,  until  long  after  midnight,  although  often 
requested  to  desist,  and  though  it  had  been  especially 
urged  upon  the  clergyman  that  he  "  was  casting  pearls 
before  swine." 

In  answer  to  an  inquiry  of  the  reverend  gentle- 
man, as  to  what  would  be  man's  condition  after 
death,  the  atheist  replied,  "Man  is  like  a  pier ;  when 
he  dies,  that  is  the  end  of  him."  As  the  minister  was 
about  to  reply,  a  red-faced  Irish  woman  at  the  end  of 
the  car  sprang  up,  the  natural  redness  of  her  face 
glowing  more  intensely  with  feeling  and  the  light  of 
the  lamp  falling  directly  upon  it,  and  addressing  the 
clergyman  in  a  voice  peculiarly  startling  and  humor- 
ous from  its  impassioned  tones  and  the  richness  of  its 
brogue,  exclaimed,  "  Jlrrah,  now,  will  ye  not  Id  the  haste 
alone ;  has  he  not  said  he's  a  pig?  and  the  more  you  pull 
his  leg,  the  louder  he  'II  squale  !''  The  effect  upon  all 
was  electric ;  the  clergyman  was  humbled,  and  apol- 
ogized for  his  thoughtlessness  and  folly.  But  upon 
the  atheist  it  was  perfectly  stunning ;  he  had  been 
"  answered  according  to  his  folly,"  and  confounded 
with  his  own  argument  by  an  illiterate  Irish  woman. 
God  had  evidently  used  the  "  foolish  to  confound  the 
wise  ;"  and  while  he  remained  in  the  car  he  was  lit- 
erally speechless,  and  he  seized  the  first  opportunity 
and  left,  although  he  had  paid  his  passage  through  to 
Utica.  s.  D. 


TAKING  THE  RIGHT  GROUND. 

One  Saturday  noon,  when  school  was  dismissed,  a 
number  of  us  stopped  a  little  while,  to  devise  ways 


360  SKETCHES   FROM   LIFE. 

and  means  of  passing  tlie  afternoon  most  pleasantl}-. 
1  was  then,  1  think,  about  nine  years  of  age.  We 
could  not  fix  upon  any  plan  ;  so  we  separated,  agree- 
ing to  meet  after  dinner,  at  E 11 's,  and  take 

up  the  subject  again. 

I  received  permission  to  spend  the  afternoon  witli 

E ,  or  to  go  where  the  boys  went,  provided  tliey 

"  kept  out  of  mischief."  I  found  the  boys,  some  five 
or  six  in  number,  assembled  there  when  1  arrived. 
One  of  them  was  earnestly  urging  them  to  go  to  the 

I orchard,  for  apples.     There  was  a  tree,  he  said, 

of  excellent  apples,  at  a  great  distance  from  the  house, 
and  so  near  to  the  woods  that  we  could  get  just  as 
many  as  w-e  wanted,  without  being  seen. 

I  saw  at  once  that  Icould  not  be  one  of  the  party, 
for  I  was  not  brought  up  to  steal  apples  or  any  thing 
else.  As  I  did  not  wish  to  be  left  alone,  1  was  very 
desirous  that  the  plan  should  not  be  adopted.  I 
accordingly  brought  forward  several  objections — the 
distance  of  the  orchard  from  us,  the  probability  that 
we  should  not  succeed,  the  shame  that  would  follow 
detection  in  the  attempt,  and  the  fact  that  none  of 
our  parents  would  be  willing  to  have  us  go  upon  such 
an  expedition. 

My  objections  were  plausibly  answered  by  the 
proposer  of  the  plan,  and  I  began  to  fear  that  I  should 

be  left  in  a  minority,  when  R A joined  us. 

When  he  had  learned  the  state  of  the  case,  he  said 
tlie  expedition  was  not  to  be  thought  of,  for  it  w^as 
WRONG.  It  would  displease  God.  Disguise  it  as  w^e 
would,  it  was  stealing,  and  God's  law  said,  "Thou 
shalt  not  steal.'' 

His  remarks  settled  the  question.     The  plan  was 


TAKING  THE  RIGHT  GROUND.  361 

given  up.  Wc  concluded  to  go  and  play  in  a  large 
new-mown  meadow. 

I  have  related  this  incident  to  show  how  important 
it  is  to  take  the  right  ground  in  opposing  that  which 

is  wrong:     E, took  the  riglit  ground.     He  })lanted 

himself  on  the  everlasting  rule  of  right.  I  have  ob- 
served that  when  young  persons  are  asked  to  do  what 
their  consciences  will  not  approve,  they  often  assign 
various  reasons  for  declining,  instead  of  boldly  stating 
tlie  true  and  chief  reason,  namely,  that  it  is  wrong. 
Never  be  afraid  or  ashamed  to  avow  your  adherence 
to  the  rule  of  right.  If  a  thing  is  not  right,  say  you 
will  not  do  it,  because  it  is  not  rin;hf,  and  do  not  think 
it  needful  to  add  any  other  reason. 

Perhaps  you  would  like  to  know  how  we  spent  the 
afternoon.  We  went  and  played  in  the  meadow.  By 
and  by  a  dark  cloud  rose  in  the  west.  A  laborer, 
passing  through  the  meadow,  told  us  there  would  be 
a  thunder-shower,  and  advised  us  to  go  home  in  sea- 
son. But  we  were  so  mucli  interested  in  our  play 
that  we  did  not  heed  his  advice. 

The  cloud  rose  higlier,  and  the  thunder  began  to 
roll.  Then  we  looked  up  and  saw  that  the  rain  was 
so  near  that  we  could  not  get  to  a  house  before  it 
would  reach  us.  There  was  a  ledge  of  rocks  on  one 
side  of  the  meadow,  and  one  of  the  rocks  projected  so 
far  as  to  form  a  shelter.  We  ran  thither,  and  thus 
secured  ourselves  from  the  rain. 

The  lightning  grew  sharper,  and  the  thunder  loud- 
er, and  we  became  very  much  alarmed.  I  prayed 
mentally,  and  wished  very  much  to  kneel  down  and 
pray  aloud,  but  was  ashamed  to  do  so. 

A  bright  flash,  wliich  seemed  to  cover  us  all  in  its 

Sketn.es  1 G 


362  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE 

blaze,  was  accompanied  with  the  loudest  peal  of  thun- 
der I  ever  heard,  A  large  chestnut- tree,  wliich  stood 
a  few  rods  distant  in  the  meadow,  was  split  in  two, 
from  the  top  to  the  bottom,  by  the  bolt. 

•'Let  us  pray,"  said  R ,  taking  off  his  hat  and 

kneeling  on  the  rock.  Most  of  us  followed  his  exam- 
ple. He  prayed  that  our  lives  might  be  spared,  and 
our  souls  saved.  Our  lives  were  spared.  The  cloud 
passed  over,  the  sun  came  out,  and  all  nature  seemed 
freshened  into  new  life. 

It  was  too  wet  to  play  in  tlie  meadow.  Indeed, 
we  did  not  feel  like  playing.  We  all  felt  solemn. 
We  went  home  and  told  our  friends  what  we  had 
seen. 

Would  you  believe  it,  some  days  afterwards,  when 
they  had  got  fully  over,  their  fright,  some  of  the  boys 

told  about  R 's  praying,  and  tried  to  make  sport 

of  it.     R told  them  that  they  did  not  laugh  at 

prayer  when  the  lightning  was  so  near  them,  and  that 
they  would  not  laugh  at  prayer  when  they  came  to 
die. 

How  often  will  those  laugh  in  the  sunsliine,  who 
tremble  in  the  storm  ! 

What  became  of  R ?     He  was  long  a  minister 

of  Jesus  Christ.  His  object  was  to  glorify  God  on 
earth,  and  to  go  and  dwell  with  him  in  heaven. 

J.  A. 


AN   IMPORTANT   INTERVIEW. 

Before  going  out  last  evening,  I  asked  my  heavenly 
Fatlicr  to  furnish  me,  if  it  might  please  him,  with  an 
opportunity   of  saying  or  doing   something  for    my 


AN  IMPORTANT  INTERVIEW.  3G3 

Saviour's  cause ;  and  I  thought  I  saw  his  hand  in  the 
following  circumstance. 

On  my  way  home,  in  the  vicinity  of  a  toy-shop,  I 
observed  a  genteel-looking  youth  of  about  eighteen 
stoop  down  and  pick  up  something,  to  which,  as  I 
passed,  he  called  my  attention.  It  was  a  number  of 
little  painted  leaden  dishes,  which  some  ciiild  had 
evidently  just  purchased  and  dropped  on  the  snow. 
As  the  youth  spread  the  dishes  on  his  hand  for  my 
inspection,  I  remarked  that  the  loss  of  the  toys  might 
then  be  filling  the  bosom  of  the  little  loser  with  poig- 
nant sorrow,  perhaps  as  keen  as  an  owner  of  great 
wealth  would  experience  at  the  loss  of  valuable  prop- 
erty. I  added,  that  although  losses  were  painful,  and 
generally  hard  to  make  up,  many  might,  nevertheless, 
be  retrieved.  Health  might  be  lost,  but  skill  and 
temperance  might  restore  the  treasure ;  riches  might 
take  wings  and  leave  their  possessor  bankrupt,  but 
industry  and  frugality  might  recall  them;  reputation 
might  be  blasted,  and  yet,  by  a  course  of  unwearied 
integrity,  a  good  name — more  precious  than  rubies — 
might  be  regained ;  but  there  is  one  loss  that  is  irre- 
trievable:  "know  you  what  it  is?"  He  hesitated, 
and  upon  my  repeating  the  question,  acknowledged 
his  ignorance.  I  told  him  it  was  the  soul,  the  pre- 
cious, immortal  soul  of  man,  which,  once  lost,  is  lost 
for  ever. 

By  this  time  we  had  reached  a  corner  where  our 
ways  separated.  Laying  my  hand  gently  on  his  shoul- 
der, and  fixing  my  eyes  upon  his,  which  the  glare  of 
the  lamp  showed  me  were  beaming  with  awakened 
interest  and  intelligent  expression,  I  solemnly  and 
affectionatclv  besought  him  to  "flee  from  the  wratli  to 


364  SKETCHES   FROM   LIFE. 

come,"  by  repentance  towards  God,  and  faith  in  the 
Lord  Jesus  Ciiri<t.  He  listened  most  attentively  to 
the  few  cogent  reasons  I  adduced,  and  thanked  me 
heartily  for  my  interest  in  the  eternal  welfare  of  a 
total  stranger.  As  we  bade  each  other  good-night,  I 
repeated  my  remark,  "  Rememljer,  the  soul  once  lost,  is 
lost  for  cvc)\  Will  you  not  at  once  attend  to  this 
mightiest  of  all  concerns?"  "I  will,  I  will,  sir,"  he 
emphatically  rejoined  ;  and  we  parted,  in  all  proba- 
bility not  again  to  meet  until,  with  "the  dead,  small 
and  great,"  we  stand  before  "the  great  white  throne." 

My  mind  was  deeply  affected  with  this  incident, 
and  my  heart  went  out  towards  that  young  man.  I 
thought  of  his  frank  and  prepossessing  countenance , 
of  his  ignorance  and  neglect  of  the  great  salvation  ; 
of  the  multitudinous  perils  to  which  he  is  exposed  in 
tills  great  city,  where  vice  never  wearies  in  weaving 
her  nets  for  giddy  youth ;  of  the  time  when  I  too  was 
a  wild  and  thoughtless  young  man,  spurning  the  re- 
straints of  religion,  and  turning  a  deaf  ear  to  the  gra- 
cious calls  of  long-forbearing  mercy ;  of  the  inestima- 
ble value  of  the  soul ;  and  of  its  costly  redemption — 
its  free  and  full  salvation  through  a  divine  and  cruci- 
fied Redeemer. 

Upon  reaching  my  dwelling  I  retired  to  my  closet, 
and  with  a  melting  heart  and  "  strong  cries,"  besouglit 
the  Triune  God  to  call  this  precious  youth  "out  of 
darkness  into  his  marvellous  light" — to  translate  him 
into  the  kingdom  of  his  dear  Son,  and  by  the  power 
of  his  grace  change  the  rebel  to  a  loyal  subject  and 
loving  cliild. 

And  should  we  not,  my  readers,  ask  ourselves,  if 
there  are  not  many  other  young  persons,  of  both  sexes, 


HAPPY   EFFECTS   OF  DECISION.  365 

to  whom  we  ought  to  "run"  and  "speak?"  Zech, 
2  : 4.     Let  us  not  loiter,  for 

"  Death  steals  on  man  with  noiseless  tread  ; 

No  jilace,  no  prayer  delivers  him ; 

From  midst  of  life,  unfinished  plan, 

With  sudden  hand  it  severs  him ; 

And  ready,  or  not  ready — no  delay ;    • 

Forth  to  his  Judge's  bar  he  nmst  away." 

"Whatsoever  thy  hand  findeth  to  do,  do  it  with  thy 
might."  Eccl.  9:10.  "  In  due  season  we  shall  reap, 
if  we  faint  not."  Gal.  6:9.  "  They  that  turn  many 
to  righteousness  shall  shine  as  the  stars  for  ever  and 
ever."     Dan.  12:3.  '  h.  s. 


HAPPY  EFFECTS   OF   DECISION. 

Not  long  since,  there  came  to  our  city  an  unassum- 
ing young  man,  whose  delicate  health  had  prevented 
him  from  entering  the  ministry,  and  made  it  advisable 
that  he  should  commence  business  as  a  merchant's 
clerk.  Entering  an  establishment  here,  he  found  him- 
self the  room-mate  of  the  head  clerk,  a  moralist,  and 
proud  of  his  virtues,  and  of  a  second  clerk,  kind,  but 
gay  and  thoughtless.  And  now  came  the  first  strug- 
gle of  duty.  Should  he  retire  without  reading  the 
Scriptures  and  prayer?  Conscience  told  him  his  duty, 
but  his  fears  answered,  "  Give  me  any  cross  but  that." 

After  two  months  of  disquiet  and  remorse,  days  of 
ceaseless  unrest  and  nights  of  sleepless  trouble,  he 
drew  forth  his  mother's  Bible  from  his  trunk,  and 
endeavored  to  extract  consolation  from  it ;  but  alas, 
he  saw  that  those  who  would  find  rest  must  take  the 
yoke ;  and  every  passage  seemed  addressed  to  him. 


366  SKETCHES   FROM  LIFE. 

summoning  him  to  take  up  the  cross,  however  great 
the  sacrifice.  He  resolved  to  obey.  That  night,  how- 
ever, his  companions  entered  the  room  unusually  gay, 
and  amid  laughing  and  trifling  and  varied  conversa- 
tion, there  seemed  no  place  to  introduce  devotional 
exercises.  He  anxiously  awaited  the  favorable  mo- 
ment, but  it  came  not ;  and  when  sleep  succeeded  to 
silence,  he  had  failed  of  duty,  and  was  again  in  dis- 
tress. The  night  was  spent  in  penitent  confession  and 
secret  resolutions  for  the  next  evening.  These  reso- 
lutions he  determined  nothing  should  thwart. 

As  the  trio  wGre  again  brought  together  in  their 
room  for  retirement,  he  saw  the  time  had  come.  With 
trepidation  and  trembling,  he  said  to  the  eldest  cleric, 
"Henry,  w^e  have  been  room-mates  for  a  long  time, 
and  have  never  prayed  together.  Let  us  neglect  this 
duty  no  longer.  I  have  done  wrong  in  delaying  as  I 
have."  The  moralist  was  struck  dumb  with  amaze- 
ment. The  other  clerk  was  silent  also.  He  opened 
that  dear  Bible  of  his  mother,  read,  kneeled  by  his 
chair,  and  then  was  verified  the  promise,  "It  shall 
come  to  pass,  that  before  they  call,  I  will  answer  ;  and 
while  they  are  yet  speaking,  I  will  hear."  Night  after 
night  the  three  clerks  bent  the  knee  in  prayer.  The 
moralist  acknowledged  a  power  he  knew  nothing  of. 
Conviction  ensued,  and  he  is  now  rejoicing  in  the  hope 
which  makcth  not  ashamed,  and  ascribes  his  first  im- 
pressions to  that  prayer  of  the  trembling  junior  clerk. 

How  heavy  the  cross  when  it  is  a  cross  in  antici- 
pation ;  how  light  the  cross  when  it  is  the  cross  re- 
membered. How  insignificant  the  consequences  when 
anticipation  measures  them  by  her  fears  ;  how  immense 
the  consequences  when  the  reality  arrives,     e.  t.  c. 


HELP  ONE  ANOTHER.  367 

HELP  ONE   ANOTHER. 

A  traveller  who  was  crossing  the  Alps,  was  over- 
taken by  -a  snow-storm  at  the  top  of  a  high  mountain. 
The  cold  became  intense.  The  air  was  thick  with 
sleet,  and  the  piercing  wind  seemed  to  penetrate  his 
bones.  Still  the  traveller,  for  a  time,  struggled  on. 
But  at  last  his  limbs  were  benumbed,  a  heavy  drowsi- 
ness began  to  creep  over  him,  his  feet  almost  refused 
to  move,  and  he  lay  down  on  the  snow  to  give  way  to 
that  fatal  sleep  which  is  the  last  stage  of  extreme  cold, 
and  from  which  he  would  certainly  never  have  waked 
again  in  this  world. 

Just  at  that  moment,  he  saw  another  poor  traveller 
coming  along  the  road.  The  unhappy  man  seemed  to 
be,  if  possible,  even  in  a  worse  condition  than  himself, 
for  he,  too,  could  scarcely  move  ;  all  his  powers  were 
frozen,  and  all  appeared  to  be  just  on  the  point  to  die. 

When  he  saw  this  poor  man,  the  traveller  who 
was  just  going  to  lie  down  to  sleep,  made  a  great 
effort.  He  roused  himself  up,  and  he  crawled,  for  he 
was  scarcely  able  to  walk,  to  his  dying  fellow-suf- 
ferer. 

He  took  his  hands  into  his  own  and  tried  to  warm 
them.  He  chafed  his  temples  ;  he  rubbed  his  feet ;  he 
applied  friction  to  his  body.  And  all  the  time  he 
spoke  cheering  words  into  his  ear  and  tried  to  com- 
fort him. 

As  he  did  thus,  the  dying  man  began  to  revive,  his 
powers  were  restored,  and  he  felt  able  to  go  forward. 
But.  this  was  not  all ;  for  his  kind  benefactor  too  was 
recovered  by  the  efforts  which  he  had  made  to  save 
his  friend.     The  exertion  of  rubbing  made  the  blood 


SKETCHES    FROM    LIFE. 


\     — >i=ft.h/t 


SK>1^'&*r- 


circulate  again  in  his  own  body.  He  grew  warm  by 
trying  to  warm  the  other.  His  drowsiness  went  oflf, 
he  no  longer  wished  to  sleep,  his  limbs  returned  again 
to  their  proper  force,  and  the  two  travellers  went  on 
their  way  together,  happy,  and  congratulating  one 
another  on  their  escape. 

Soon  the  snow-storm  passed  away ;  the  monntaiu 
was  crossed,  and  they  reached  their  home  in  safety. 

If,  dear  reader,  you  feel  your  heart  cold  towards 
God,  and  your  soul  almost  ready  to  perish,  try  to  do 
something  which  may  help  another  soul  to  life  jand 
make  his  heart  glad  ;  and  you  will  often  find  it  the 
best  way  to  warm  and  restore  and  gladden  your  own. 


THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  FIRST  GIFT.  3G9 

THE  YOUNG   LADY'S  FIRST   GIFT. 

Not  far  from  forty  years  ago,  Miss  H ,  in  a  New 

England  city,  heard  one  Sabbath,  for  the  first  time, 
a  missionary  sermon.  She  had  distinguished  family 
connections;  her  personal  character  already  gave 
promise  of  great  superiority,  and  more  than  all,  she 
was*  an  ardent  Christian.  With  a  glowing  heart,  she 
listened  to  the  story  of  the  wants  and  woes  of  the 
heathen.  Her  attention  was  especially  called  to  the 
Sandwich  Island  mission,  and  she  shed  many  tears  of 
l)ity  in  thinking  of  the  misery  of  those  who  had  never 
hoard  of  her  Saviour.  "What  can  /  do?"  was  the 
question  she  asked  herself. 

On  returning  home,  she  said  eagerly  to  her  aston- 
ished father,  "Father,  I  want  all  my  money."  "All 
your  money  to-day — what  can  you  want  it  for?"  "I 
must  give  it  to  that  good  man  who  preached  this 
morning,  that  the  poor  Sandwich  Islanders  may  have 
the  gospel."  It  amounted  to  sixteen  dollars,  and  she 
cast  the  whole  into  the  "  Lord's  treasury." 

The  interest  felt  for  the  new  mission  spread 
througliout  the  town.  By  and  by  the  church  was 
repaired,  and  the  old  pulpit  was  sent  to  the  Sandwich 
Islands,  for  the  new  house  of  worship  erected  there. 

Years  rolled  on.  The  young  lady  entered  upon 
the  arduous  duties  of  a  pastor's  wife,  and  had  become 
a  mother,  yet  she  still  found  time  to  labor  and  pray 
for  "the  nations  sitting  in  darkness;"  and  though  in 
early  womanhood  her  warm  heart  and  liberal  hands 
became  cold  in  death,  "  God  still  had  respect  unto  her 
and  her  offering." 

One  of  her  sons,  after  some  years'  absence  attcnd- 
16* 


370  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

ing  to  liis  profession  in  a  remote  part  of  the  land, 
found  it  necessary,  owing  to  the  declining  state  of  liis 
health,  to  take  a  voyage.  He  embarked  for  the  Sand- 
wich Islands.  He  arrived  in  safety,  and  found  him- 
self not  among  heathen,  but  was  immediately  sur- 
rounded by  Christian  friends.  He  was  hospitably 
entertained  ;  his  wants  and  sicknesses  were  cared  for, 
and  in  due  time  he  was  enabled  to  go  up  to  the  house 
of  God,  when  almost  the  first  object  that  met  his  eyes 
was  the  "old  pulpit,"'  beneath  whose  droppings  his 
sainted  mother  had  felt  the  first  springing  up  of  mis- 
sionary fervor.  Yes,  there  was  the. pulpit,  and  there 
was  her  son,  both  witnesses  that  God  is  faithful. 

How  little  that  young  lady  thought,  so  many  years 
before,  when  she  placed  her  sixteen  dollars  in  the  con- 
tribution-box, that  she  was  thus  providing  for  the 
future  comfort  and  entertainment  of  her  own  child. 

But  God  saw  it  all ;  and  every  gift,  wish,  effort, 
tear,  prayer  which  we  bestow  upon  his  cause,  arc 
"bread"  cast  upon  the  great  waters  of  his  truth  and 
benevolence,  and  shall  surely  return  unto  us  after 
"  many  days."  m.  a.  h. 


THE   OLD   PARASOL. 

In  one  of  the  churches  in  the  village  of  M , 

the  Sabbath  had  arrived  for  presenting  the  claim  of 
missions  in  our  own  country ;  and  according  to  the 
usual  custom,  in  each  pew  was  placed  a  slip  of  blank 
paper.  The  eye  of  a  young  lady,  as  she  entered  her 
pew,  rested  on  the  paper ;  she  knew  its  purport,  and 
a  cloud  gathered  over  her  usually  sunny  face.     It 


THE  OLD  PARASOL.  311 

was  not  that  she  did  not  love  the  object  for  which 
that  little  paper  asked  a  subscription  :  of  the  varied 
calls  to  promote  her  Master's  kingdom  none  was 
dearer  to  her  heart,  and  she  was  a  cheerful  giver. 
But  now,  if  she  gave,  there  must  be  a  sacrifice,  and 
for  her,  a  great  self  denial. 

Slie  had  heretofore  given  a  dollar  annually,  be- 
sides her  efforts  in  the  Sewing  Society.  Small  this 
may  seem  to  those  who  give  their  fifties,  but  it  was 
not  small  for  her.  Her  mother,  unhappily,  thought 
much  of  making  an  appearance  in  the  world,  and 
often  reproved  her  young  daughter  for  what  she 
deemed  her  unnecessary  liberality.  Her  father,  at 
her  request,  had  granted  her  a  stated  though  limited 
allowance,  for  his  income  was  small.  Unexpected 
calls  upon  her  purse  had  left  her  with  only  one  dollar. 
She  had  designed  with  that,  and  a  small  addition  her 
mother  had  promised,  to  purchase  a  parasol,  and  had 
considered  she  must  withhold  her  mite  until  the  next 
year,  hoping  then  to  double  it. 

But  the  sight  of  that  silent  little  pleader  whiclu 
she  had  never  returned  blank,  caused  her  some  mis- 
givings, and  a  struggle  commenced  in  her  heart,  that 
did  not  lessen  as  she  listened  to  the  destitution  in  our 
western  states — how  thousands  must  perish  for  the 
bread  of  life,  unless  the  church  awoke  to  her  duty  and 
sent  forth  laborers,  for  "the  harvest  truly  was  plen- 
teous, but  the  laborers  few." 

The  young  lady  cast  one  look  at  her  old  parasol,  as 
it  stood  in  the  corner  of  the  pew,  for  it  was  old-fash- 
ioned, and  much  the  worse  for  wear.  She  thought  of 
the  appearance  it  would  make  beside  the  richly  dress-"" 
ed  city  cousins  who  were  soon  to  visit  her  ;  how  it 


3T2  oKETCHES  FROM   LIFE. 

would  excite  their  mirtli  and  ridicule,  if  not  tlieir 
compassion  for  lier  poverty.  And  then  she  might 
incur  the  displeasure  of  her  mother,  if  she  appropri- 
ated her  money  to  any  other  purpose  than  to  buy  a 
new  one. 

All  these  thoughts  passed  rapidly  through  the 
mind  of  tlio  young  follower  of  Je^s.  Then  came 
that  saying?  of  his,  "  He  that  taketh  not  his  cross,  and 
followeth  me,  is  not  worthy  of  me."  "  It  was  a  slight 
cross,  she  felt,  for  her  to  bear,  and  taking  the  little 

paper,  she  wrote  on  it  with  her  pencil, "'  C II , 

one  dollar."  The  cloud  passed  from  her  brow,  and 
when  the  service  was  ended,  she  took  her  old  parasol 
and  walked  home  witli  a  light  heart,  blessing  God  for 
an  opportunity  of  making  any  sacrifice  for  his  glory. 

A  few  days  passed,  and  a  letter  came  for  her  from 
an  absent  brotlier,  containing  an  unexpected  gift  of 
ffty  dollars.  Taking  it  to  her  mother,  she  said,  "  See, 
mother,  how  God  has  returned  my  dollar,  and  with 
such  interest ;  but  I  shall  carry  my  old  parasol  this 
summer,  for  it  seems  like  an  old  friend  who  has  done 
me  good."  If  all  the  professed  followers  of  Jeans 
would  make  some  sacrifice,  forego  some  anticipated 
gratification  for  his  cause,  how  would  the  treasury  of 
the  Lord  be  increased.  You  may  not  receive  your 
dollar  back  with  interest  here,  but  you  will  have  what 
is  worth  more,  the  sweet  consciousness  of  your  Sav- 
iour's approval. 


USEFUL  WOMEN. 

Two  sisters  who  liad  sought  to  be  useful  in  the 
city  of  New  York,  were  providentially  removed  to  a 


USEFUL  WOMEN.  3V3 

village  not  far  distant,  and  as  a  means  of  doing  good 
as  they  liad  opportunity,  provided  themselves  with 
religious  tracts.  After  circulating  them  for  a  long 
time,  with  apparently  no  good  result,  they  became 
interested'  on  behalf  of  a  young  lady  who  was  well 
known  in  the  circles  of  worldly  fashion.  They  made 
her  a  subject  of  special  prayer  ;  and  when  about  to 
visit  her  on  one  occasion,  bowed  before  the  Lord  in 
secret,  asking  divine  direction  and  a  blessing.  They 
selected  the  tract,  "  Don't  put  it  off,"  and  when  they 
presented  it,  they  prayed  with  her.  They  returned 
home,  and  in  secret  asked  the  Lord  to  bless  the  tract 
they  had  given.  He  heard  their  supplication;  and 
from  the  time  that  she  read  that  tract,  the  young 
lady  was  deeply  convinced  of  sin.  She  felt  the  ter- 
rors of  the  law,  and  was  heavily  burdened  during 
several  months,. before  she  realized  that  Christ  was 
her  peace ;  yet  she  was  much  concerned  for  others, 
and  anxiously  sought,  by  reading  to  them  the  tract 
the  Lord  had  blessed  to  her,  and  by  conversation,  to 
be  the  means  of  bringing  them  to  Christ.  At  length 
she  became  a  happy  Christian,  testifying  the  grace  of 
God  wherever  she  had  opportunity ;  and  from  that 
time  was  more  assiduously  employed  in  efforts  to  do 
good. 

One  of  the  persons  to  whom  she  read  the  tract 
during  the  season  of  her  anxiety,  soon  indulged  hope, 
and  joined  her  in  the  service  of  her  blessed  Master. 
A  young  married  woman,  to  whom  she  endeavored  to 
communicate  religious  truth,  repelled  it,  saying  that 
her  child  so  fully  engaged  her  attention  that  she  had 
no  time  to  think  of  religion.  The  young  lady  recol- 
lected the  excuses  she  herself  had  made  and  what 


374  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

others  had  done  for  her  salvation,  and  retiring  to  her 
closet,  laid  the  tract  that  had  been  made  useful  to  her 
before  the  Lord,  and  besought  him  that  he  would  in 
like  manner  bless  it  to  that  young  woman.  She  then 
went  and  gave  it  to  her,  with  the  request  that  she 
would  immediately  read  it,  and  then  returned  to  her 
closet  again  to  pray  that  it  might  be  blessed.  Pres- 
ently she  was  called  from  her  knees  to  receive  a  mes- 
sage from  Mrs. ,  requesting  that  she  would  return 

to  her  immediately.  She  did  so,  and  found  her  kneel- 
ing on  the  floor,  crying  to  God  for  mercy.  Her  con- 
viction of  sin  was  abiding ;  it  increased  in  depth ; 
and  after  a  while  this  woman  also  was  enabled  to  see 
that  the  chastisement  of  her  'peace  was  upon  Christ, 
and  that  with  his  stripes  she  was  healed. 

This  young  married  woman  has  also  been  blessed 
in  efforts  to  do  good.  She  lately  made  a  visit  to  the 
parents  of  her  husband,  and  in  the  evening  related 
what  the  Lord  had  done  for  her  soul,  and  read  the 
tract  that  had  been  the  means  of  her  awakening. 
Her  mother  heard  with  much  attention,  and  the  admo- 
nition, "Don't  put  it  off,"  came  home  to  her  with 
power.  She  wept,  and  from  that  evening  regarded 
herself  as  a  sinner,  ready  to  perish  ;  the  fixed  purpose 
of  her  soul  appeared  to  be,  "  I  '11  go  to  Jesus." 

"I  can  but  perish,  if  I  go; 
I  am  resolved  to  try ; 
For  if  I  stay  away,  I  know 
I  must  for  ever  die." 

Here  were  four  persons  who  had  reason  to  praise 
God  for  one  copy  of  a  tract  of  four  pages ;  for  though 
they  subsequently  read  other  tracts  and  Banyan's 
"  Come  and  Welcome,"  and  derived  much  instruction 


TAKE  CARE  OF  THAT  OX.  3T5 

and  comfort  from  their  perusal,  "Don't  put  it  off,"  in 
connection  with  pra3'erful  personal  effort,  appeared 
to  have  been  the  means  of  their  awakening.  There 
were  other  persons  in  the  neighborhood  who  appeared 
to  be  concerned  for  their  spiritual  state,  and  as  God 
employs  the  influence  that  individuals  exert  upon  one 
another  as  a  means  of  carrying  on  his  work,  who  can 
tell  whereunto  this  may  grow?  0. 


TAKE   CARE   OF  THAT   OX. 

Travelling,  not  long  since,  through  one  of  the  west- 
ern states,  I  stopped  at  a  very  neat  public-house  and 
called  for  dinner.  While  it  was  preparing,  I  had  a 
few  words  of  conversation  with  the  landlord,  who 
kept  a  temperance  house,  and  gave  me  a  brief  history 
of  it. 

Some  years  ago,  he  informed  me,  though  a  profes- 
sor of  religion,  he  had  sold  an  immense  quantity  of 
liquor,  and  his  house  was  noted  far  and  near  as  a 
resort  for  respectable  tipplers.  Travellers  loaded 
him  with  their  favors.  His  conscience  often  troubled 
him,  but  he  was  accustomed  to  appease  its  clamors 
by  the  argument,  that  "  if  he  did  n't  sell,  somebody 
else  would." 

One  day  a  venerable  Christian  neiglibor,  who  had 
often  kindly  spoken  to  him  on  the  subject,  left  at  the 
house,  while  ho  was  absent,  a  tract  called  "The  Ox 
Sermon."  Picking  it  up  on  his  return,  and  glancing 
over  it,  he  was  filled  with  resentment  that  his  old 
neighbor  should  be  constantly  meddling  with  what  did 
not  concern  him.     Yet  he  read  the  tract,  and  was 


376  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

forced  secretly  to  admit  the  truth  it  contained,  and  the 
inference  it  drew.  This  conviction  only  made  him 
more  angry  with  the  old  gentleman  ;  and  meeting 
him  that  afternoon,  he  went  so  far  as  to  tell  him  that 
his  grey  hairs  alone  saved  him  from  the  chastisement 
his  impudence  deserved. 

That  night,  as  usual,  he  gathered  his  family  togetlv 
er  for  evening  prayers.  While  he  was  praying,  that 
ox  seemed  to  stand  directly  by  his  side.  He  retired  to 
rest,  hut  sleep  departed  from  his  eyes.  Once  he  arose 
and  went  away  by  himself  to  pray,  but  there  too  stood 
the  furious  ox  close  by  his  side,  while  a  long  row  of 
decanters  appeared  in  front.  He  turned  round  with 
his  face  the  other  way,  but  still  there  was  the  ox,  and 
there  were  the  decanters  as  before,  plain  as  noonday. 
The  next  day  the  ox  accompanied  him  wherever  ho 
w^ent.  Retiring  early  that  night,  he  determined  to 
sleep  it  off.  But  there  the  ox  stood,  close  by  his  bed, 
rather  more  fierce  and  desperate  than  before.  He 
slept  not  a  moment  all  night.  Next  day  he  determined 
to  drive  off  these  strange  misgivings  ;  and  proceeding 
to  the  city,  purchased  fifty  dollars'  worth  of  choice 
liquors,  decanters,  etc.,  resolved  to  enlarge  his  busi- 
ness and  overcome  his  fears.  But  he  was  more  miser- 
able that  night  than  ever  before.  The  ox  still  haunted 
him,  and  a  voice  seemed  to  ring  in  his  ear,  "Take 
CARE  OP  THAT  Ox."  He  passcd  several  restless  nights 
and  gloomy  days.  At  last  he  could  endure  the  ox  no 
longer.  One  morning  just  before  day,  having  spent 
a  horrible  night,  he  made  a  solemn  promise  that,  if  he 
lived  till  morning,  he  would  wind  up  his  iniquitous 
business. 

As  soon  as  it  \va<  liglit  enougli,  lie  began  to  pour 


AN  EXCITING  SCENE.  377 

the  contents  of  his  decanters  back  into  the  barrels. 
This  being  completed,  he  rolled  the  barrels  down  into 
the  road,  and  began  to  knock  in  the  heads  with  an 
axe.  His  family  were  dreadfully  alarmed,  and  fear- 
ing he  was  insane,  dared  not  approach  him.  At 
length  one  of  his  hired  men,  having  more  courage 
than  the  others,  cautiously  approached  and  inquired 
what  he  was  doing.  As  soon  as  the  family  were  con- 
vinced of  his  sanity,  they  assisted  him  in  his  work  of 
destruction,  and  in  an  hour  his  choice  wine,  brandy, 
sherry,  gin,  and  whiskey  were  all  running  in  the  gut- 
ter. The  bar  was  torn  down,  and  though  his  custom- 
ers nearly  all  forsook  him,  his  conscience  was  at  rest, 
and  he  saw  the  ferocious  ox  no  more.  p.  b.  d. 


AN   EXCITING   SCENE. 

A  great  "  experience  meeting  "  was  to  be  held  one 

evening  in church,  where  the  speakers  were,  as 

usual,  to  be  reformed  drunkards.  An  estimable  wo- 
man, whom  I  will  call  Alice,  was  induced  to  attend. 
When  the  meeting  was  somewhat  advanced,  a  late 
member  of  Congress  arose,  with  apparent  sadness  and 
hesitation : 

"  Though  I  had  consented,  at  your  urgent  solicita- 
tion, to  address  this  assembly  to-night,"  he  said,  "yet 
I  have  felt  so  great  a  reluctance  to  doing  so,  that  it 
has  been  with  the  utmost  difficulty  I  could  drag  my- 
self forward.  As  to  relating  my  experience,  that  I 
do  not  think  I  can  venture  upon.  The  past  I  dare 
not  recall.  I  could  wish  that  the  niomory  of  ten 
years  of  my  life  were  blotled  out."      lie  jtnused  a 


378  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

moment,  much  aflfectcd,  and  then  added  in  a  firmer 
voice,  "  Something-  must  be  said  of  my  own  case,  or  I 
shall  fail  to  make  the  impression  on  your  minds  that 
I  wish  to  produce". 

'•  Your  speaker  once  stood  among  the  respected 
members  of  the  bar.  Nay,  more  than  tliat,  he  occu- 
pied a  seat  in  Congress  for  two  congressional  periods. 
And  more  than  that,"  he  continued,  his  voice  sinking 
into  a  tone  expressive  of  deep  emotion,  "  he  once  had 
a  tenderly  loved  wife  and  two  sweet  children.  But 
"all  these  honors,  all  these  blessings,  have  departed 
from  him.  He  was  unworthy  to  retain  them;  his 
constituents  threw  him  off  because  he  had  debased 
himself  and  disgraced  them.  And  more  than  all,  she 
who  had  loved  him  devotedly,  the  mother  of  his  two 
babes,  was  forced  to  abandon  him,  and  seek  an  asylum 
in  her  father's  house.  And  why?  Could  I  become 
so  changed  in  a  few  short  years?  "What  power  was 
there  so  to  debase  me  that  my  fellow-beings  spurned, 
and  even  the  wife  of  my  bosom  turned  away,  heart- 
stricken,  from  me  ?  Alas,  my  friends,  it  was  a  mad 
indulgence  in  intoxicating  drinks.  But  for  this,  I 
were  an  honorable  and  useful  representative  in  the 
halls  of  legislation,  and  blessed  with  a  home,  and 
witli  Avife  and  children. 

"But  I  have  not  told  you  all.  After  my  wife  sep- 
arated from  me,  I  sank  rapidly.  A  state  of  sobriety 
brought  too  many  terrible  thoughts  ;  I  drank  more 
deeply,  and  was  rarely,  if  ever,  free  from  the  bewil- 
dering effects  of  partial  intoxication.  At  last,  I  be- 
came so  abandoned  that  my  wife,  urged  by  her  friends 
no  doubt,  filed  an  application  for  a  divorce,  and  as 
cause  could  be  readily  shown  why  it  should  be  grant- 


AN  EXCITING  SCENE. 


3T9 


W'^  f -  ,uf.f.  \ 


ed,  a  separation  was  legally  declared  ;  and  to  complete 
my  disgrace,  at  the  congressional  canvass  I  was  left 
off  the  ticket,  as  unfit  to  represent  the  district. 

"When  I  heard  of  this  new  movement,  the  great 
temperance  cause,  at  first  I  sneered,  then  wondered, 
listened  at  last,  and  finally  threw  myself  upon  the 
great  wave  that  was  rolling  onward,  in  hope  of  being 
carried  by  it  far  out  of  the  reach  of  danger.  I  did 
not  hope  with  a  vain  hope.  It  did  for  me  all  and 
more  than  I  could  have  desired.  It  set  me  once  more 
upon  my  feet,  once  more  made  a  man  of  me.  A  year 
of  sobriety,  earnest  devotion  to  my  profession,  and 
fervent  prayer  to  Him  who  alone  gives  strength  in 


380  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

every  good  resolution,  lias  restored  to  me  much  that 
I  have  lost;  but  not  all,  not  the  richest  treasure  that 
I  have  proved  myself  unworthy  to  retain — not  my 
wife  and  children.  Between  myself  and  these  the 
law  has  laid  its  stern  impassable  interdictions.  I 
have  no  longer  a  wife,  no  longer  children,  though  my 
heart  goes  towards  these  dearly  beloved  ones  with 
the  tenderest  yearnings.  Pictures  of  our  early  days 
of  wedded  love  are  ever  lingering  in  my  imagination. 
I  dream  of  the  sweet  fireside  circle ;  I  see  ever  before 
me  the  placid  face  of  my  Alice,  as  her  eyes  looked 
into  my  own  with  intcHigent  confidence  ;  the  music  of 
her  voice  is  ever  sounding  in  my  ears." 

Here  the  speaker's  emotion  overcame  him  ;  his 
utterance  became  choked,  and  he  stood  silent,  with 
bowed  head  and  trembling  limbs.  The  dense  mass  of 
people  were  hushed  into  an  oppressive  stillness,  that 
was  broken  here  and  there  by  half-stifled  sobs. 

At  this  moment  there  was  a  movement  in  the 
crowd.  A  single  female  figure,  before  whom  every 
one  appeared  instinctively  to  give  way,  was  seen 
passing  up  the  aisle.  Tliis  was  not  observed  by  the 
speaker  until  she  had  come  nearly  in  front  of  the 
platform. on  which  he  stood.  Then  the  movement 
caught  his  ear,  and  his  eyes  that  instant  fell*  on  Alice, 
who,  by  the  kindness  of  those  near  her,  was  conduct- 
ed,to  his  side.  The  whole  audience,  thrilled  with 
the  scene,  were  upon  their  feet,  and  bending  forward, 
when  the  speaker  extended  his  arms,  and  Alice  threw 
herself  upon  his  bosom. 

An  aged  minister  then  came  forward,  and  gently 
separated  them.  "  No,  no,"  said  the  reformed  con- 
gressman, "you   cannot   take   her   away  from   me." 


THE  PERIL  AND  THE  VOVv".  331 

"  Heaven  forbid  tliat  I  should,"'  replied  the  minister ; 
"but  by  your  own  confession  she  is  not  your  wife." 
"  No,  she  is  not,''  returned  the  speaker  mournfully. 
"  But  is  ready  to  take  her  tows  again,"  modestly  said 
Alice,  in  a  low  tone,  smiling  througli  her  tears. 

Before  that  large  assembly,  all  standing,  and  with 
few  dry  eyes,  the  marriage  ceremony  was  again  per- 
formed, that  gave  the  speaker  and  Alice  to  each  other. 
As  the  minister,  an  aged  man  with  thin  white  locks, 
completed  the  marriage  rite,  he  laid  his  hands  upon 
the  heads  of  the  two  he  had  joined  in  holy  bonds,  and 
lifting  up  his  streaming  eyes,  said,  in  a  solemn  voice, 
"  What  God  has  joined  together,  let  not  Rum  put 
asunder."  "Amen"  was  cried  by  the  wliole  assembly, 
as  witli  a  sinorlc  voice.  j.  s.  b. 


THE  PERIL   AND    THE   VOW. 

On  a  pleasant  summer  day  two  young  men  were 
off  the  coast  of  Cape  Cod  in  a  small  boat,  fishing. 
Interested  in  their  pastime,  they  did  not  see  the  ris- 
ing cloud,  nor  heed  the  white  crests  increasing  around 
them,  till  a  wild  wave,  dashing  against  their  frail 
bark,  aroused  them  to  their  danger.  It  was  too  late 
to  gain  the  shore,  and  driven  before  the  gale,  that 
blew  off  the  land,  they  were  at  the  mercy  of  the  bil- 
lows. It  was  a  fearful  hour  for  the  youth,  who  had 
neglected  their  souls,  and  were  unprepared  to  leave 
the  stormy  sea  for  eternity's  ocean. 

It  was  proposed  by  one,  that  they  promise  God,  if 
spared  to  reach  the  coast,  to  serve  him  the  remainder 
of  life.      His  companion  refused  to  make  a  vow,  but 


382  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

felt  tliat  lie  had  too  long  perilled  his  soul.  The  dis- 
tressed j'oung  man  who  desired  the  mutual  pledge, 
kneeled  on  the  bottom  of  the  boat,  and  promised  the 
Lord,  if  he  would  save  him  from  the  waves  lie  would 
live  for  his  glory. 

God  protected  that  tossing  skiff,  till,  outriding 
the  surges  and  the  storm,  it  was  laid  upon  a  beach 
many  miles  from  its  pleasant  moorings  a  few  hours 
before. 

The  rescued  youth  hastened  to  tlic  embrace  of 
friends.  But  the  heart  upon  which  the  vows  of  God 
rested,  after  a  brief  performance  of  religious  duties, 
returned  to  old  habits  of  sin  with  a  lawless  indul- 
gence, as  if  to  recover  the  time  lost  in  the  transient 
regard  to  religion. 

The  companion  became  thoughtful,  attended  all  the 
means  of  grace,  and  sought  earnestly  tlie  salvation  of 
his  soul.  He  was  soon  a  devout,  believing  disciple, 
and  continued  to  honor  Christ. 

In  these  two  experiences  we  have  a  suggestive  ex- 
hibition of  the  human  heart,  and  God's  saving  grace. 
The  terrified  sinner  who  was  in  haste  to  conciliate 
God  with  a  vow  of  repentance,  like  thousands  on  a 
dying  bed,  who  mistake  the  remorse  and  promises  of 
the  dire  emergency  for  a  work  of  salvation,  went 
again  to  his  sins.  His  friend  was  truly  awakened  by 
the  Holy  Spirit,  and  feeling  his  guilt,  sought  with  liis 
whole  heart  the  pardoning  mercy  of  God. 

What  an  eventful  scene  was  that  upon  the  deep! 
What  a  widely  ditferent  thing,  is  a  promise  extorted 
by  danger,  and  a  sense  of  vilcness  in  the  sight  of  a 
holy  God. 

And  if  tliat  reckless  covenant-breaker  perisli,  how 


CLAIMS  OF  OUR  COUNTRY.  383 

will  lie,  amid  the  howlings  of  an  eternal  storm,  remem- 
ber the  billows  of  the  angry  sea,  and  amid  the  shore- 
less waves  of  despair,  exclaim  with  anguish,  "Thy 
TOWS  are  upon  me,  0  God."  p,  c.  h. 


CLAIMS   OF    OUR   COUNTRY. 

A  few  years  since,  a  gentleman  in  Kentucky  gave 
the  following  account  of  scenes  which  he  witnessed 
among  the  mountains  of  that  state. 

"  After  spending  a  few  weeks  in  B and  M 

counties,  I  went  into  the  mountains.  It  is  enough  to 
make  one's  heart  sick  to  see  the  moral  condition  of 
those  mountain  counties.  There  are  probably  some 
fifteen  or  twenty  adjoining  counties  without  an  edu- 
cated minister  of  any  denomination,  and  whiskey 
drinking  with  all  its  accompaniments  seems  to  be  the 
order  of  the  day.  In  B they  have  the  only  meet- 
ing-house I  saw  for  some  sixty  miles.  I  found  two 
ladies  in  B who  seemed  to  feel  deeply  for  the  des- 
olations of  Zion  ;  one  of  them  had  tried  to  sustain  a 
Sabbath-school.  She  could  get  forty  children  to  at- 
tend, but  could  prevail  npon  no  one  to  act  as  teacher. 
I  believe  it  to  be  a  very  promising  missionary  field. 
If  a  few  devoted  young  men  could  be  found,  of  the 
right  stamp,  who  would  be  willing  to  spend  their 
lives  for  the  benefit  of  those  poor  mountaineers,  they 
would  be  richly  rewarded  for  it  in  the  moral  and 
religious  improvement  which,  under  God,  they  might 
effect. 

"  An  aged  man  told  me  that  in  his  neighborhood 
they  had  preaching  but  once  a  month,  and  but  few 


384  SKETCHES   FROM   LIFE. 

good  books.  '  In  the  part  of  the  country  where  I  was 
brought  up/  said  he,  '  they  supplied  the  people  with 
Bibles,  but  they  do  not  do  it  here.'  I  asked  liim  if 
the  families  were  not  generally  supplied  with  a  Bible : 
his  answer  was,  'JVot  half  of  them.^  Learning  from 
him  that  most  of  his  neighbors  could  read,  I  asked 
him  if  he  thought  they  would  read  good  books.  He 
said,  '  Yes.'  I  then  gave  him  twelve  volumes  of  our 
best  practical  works,  and  thus  I  have  established  a 
circulating  library  in  that  destitute  neighborhood. 
May  the  Lord  use  them  as  instruments  in  his  hands 
of  the  conversion  of  many  souls. 

"  At  every  turn  one  beholds  marks  of  moral  degra- 
dation, and  darkness  that  may  almost  be  felt.  When 
I  think  of  their  condition,  my  heart  sinks  within  me, 
and  I  am  ready  to  exclaim.  How  long,  0  Lord,  how 
long  ere  thou  wilt  make  this  wilderness  to  bud  and 
blossom  as  the  rose,  and  these  high  places  of  wicked- 
ness to  become  vocal  with  the  praises  of  our  God? 

"  Oh  that  I  had  the  voice  of  an  angel,  that  I  might 
proclaim,  upon  every  mountain  and  from  every  valley, 
a  crucified  Saviour,  and  tell  the  story  of  the  cross  to 
those  who  sit  in  darkness  and  in  the  region  of  the 
shadow  of  death.  But  I  feel  that  I  may  have  my 
wish  more  than  realized  :  I  may  speak  to  them  through 
the  voices  of  hundreds  who  have  long  since  gone  to 
join  the  angelic  host,  wlio  speak  in  accents  of  heavenly 
wisdom  and  power  from  on  high.  In  all  these  fifteen 
or  twenty  counties,  we  have  not  one  colporteur  to 
scatter  the  leaves  of  the  tree  of  life.  0  can  you  not 
send  us  some  two  or  three  devoted,  self-denying  men, 
who  will  be  willing  to  live  upon  the  coarsest  fare, 
and  labor  year  after  year  for  these  perishing  souls? 


CLAIMS  OF  OUR  COUNTRY.  385 

The  books  circulated  must  be  almost  wholly  granted, 
and  every  family  should  bo  visited  at  least  as  often  as 
once  a  year,  and  I  firmly  believe  this  field  might  pro- 
duce a  most  abundant  harvest.  On  my  journey  out 
and  back  I  scattered  about  ten  dollars'  worth  of  books 
and  tracts,  mostly  by  gift ;  but  all  I  can  do  for  them 
at  present  is  to  recommend  them  to  the  notice  and 
sympathies  of  our  Christian  friends,  and  offer  up  my 
most  fervent  prayers  to  the  Lord  of  the  harvest,  that 
he  will  send  forth  laborers  into  his  vineyard ;  for  the 
harvest  truly  is  great,  but  the  laborers  are  few. 

"  I  have  if  possible  a  more  necessitous  field  to  cul- 
tivate, and  Oh  who  is  equal  to  the  responsible  task  of 
enlightening  and  guiding  the  deluded  votaries  of  the 
man  of  sin,  and  leading  them  out  of  the  labyrinths  of 
error  and  superstition  in  which  they  have  been  en- 
veloped by  an  infidel  and  designing  priesthood?" 


It 


386  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 


RELIGION  IN  THE  CHURCH. 


AN   IMPRESSIVE   SERMON. 

Nearly  half  a  century  ago,  when  I  was  a  small 
boy,  I  lived  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  Staffordshire 
coal-mines  in  England.  One  morning  considerable 
excitement  was  created  by  a  statement,  that  on  the 
preceding  night  a  man  wandering  among  the  old 
worn-out  coal-pits  was  lost ;  and  being  unable  to  grope 
his  way  longer  in  the  dark,  he  stood  still  and  cried  at 
the  top  of  his  voice,  "  Lost  !  lost !  lost .'"  At  length  a 
poor  man,  a  collier,  was  awoke  out  of  sleep  by  the 
sound,  and  rising  from  his  bed,  proceeded  with  a  lan- 
tern to  the  spot,  where  he  found  the  lost  man  stand- 
ing on  the  very  edge  of  a  deep  precipice.  Had  he, 
instead  of  standing  still  and  crying  out  as  he  did, 
taken  another  step,  he  would  have  fallen  in,  and  prob- 
ably been  dashed  to  pieces.  Much  public  interest 
was  felt  in  this  great  deliverance. 

It  was  at  that  time  my  privilege  to  attend  the  min- 
istry of  a  venerable  servant  of  Jesus  Christ,  who  dis- 
played surprising  ingenuity  in  the  selection  of  sub- 
jects for  his  sermons ;  and  if  any  thing  remarkable 
occurred  during  the  week,  it  would  be  generally  used 
on  the  following  Sabbath  by  way  of  instruction  or 
admonition.  On  the  morning  of  the  Lord's  day  after 
the  occurrence  at  the  coal-pits,  instead  of  putting 
on  his  spectacles  to  read  his  text,  as  usual,  he  laid 
them  beside  his  open  Bible,  looked  with  intense  inter- 


AN   IMPRESSIVE  SERMON.  387 

est  over  the  whole  church,  and  as  the  tears  streamed 
down  his  cheeks,  exclaimed  in  tones  which  even  now 
seem  to  ring  in  my  ears,  '^ Lost !  Lost!  LOST !  Yes, 
my  dear  hearers,  this  is  your  condition — lost  /"  Then 
did  he  go  on  to  illustrate  the  depravity  and  folly  of 
man  in  departing  from  God,  forsaking  the  narrow 
path  of  righteousness  and  duty,  and  wandering  among 
the  bogs  and  pits  of  a  corrupted  world,  in  search  of 
enjoyment — ever  disappointed,  and  yet  eagerly  pur- 
suing what  had  always  eluded  the  grasp  of  man. 
Clearly  did  he  show  the  danger  of  sinners  thus  stray- 
ing from  heaven,  and  in  millions  of  cases  falling  into 
eternal  perdition  before  they  were  aware  of  their 
real  state :'  and  in  contrast,  the  safety  of  the  man 
who  becomes  acquainted  with  his  real  character  and 
prospects,  and  cries  out  in  self-despair,  "  Lost !  lost !" 
"  Happy,  happy  man !"  exclaimed  he ;  "  God  is  appear- 
ing for  your  deliverance." 

Then  with  solemn  dignity,  as  he  put  on  his  spec- 
tacles, he  said,  "  Brethren,  I  bring  to  you  a  glorious 
message  from  heaven;  will  you  hear  it?  'The  Son 
of  man  is  come  to  save  that  which  was  lost.'"  Matt. 
18  :  11.  He  showed  this  message  of  mercy  to  be 
adapted  to  the  circumstances  of  sinners  lost  to  all 
right  feeling  and  happiness,  to  the  divine  glory  and 
usefulness  among  men,  to  heaven  and  to  God.  While 
he  presented  with  graphic  power  the  transgressor 
against  God  standing  on  the  very  brink  of  the  bot- 
tomless abyss,  we  seemed  to  hear  the  voice  of  infinite 
mercy  saying  to  divine  justice,  "Deliver  him  from 
going  down  to  the  pit ;  I  have  found  a  ransom."  The 
infinite  dignity  of  the  Son  of  Jehovah,  his  boundless 
love  in  becoming  incarnate  to  die  in  the  stead  of  the 


388  SKETCHES  FROM   LIFE. 

sinner,  and  the  inconceivable  and  eternal  blessings 
he  bestows  on  the  returning  penitent,  were  beauti- 
fully presented  to  our  view.  Nor  with  less  clearness 
did  he  prove  the  ability  and  willingness  of  Christ  to 
save  sinners  ;  showing  the  price,  even  that  of  his  own 
blood,  paid  for  their  redemption,  and  the  fact  that  he 
is  still  engaged  in  the  heavenly  world  in  interceding 
"for  the  transgressors."  Every  one  seemed  to  feel 
that  Jesus  is  still  able  and  willing  to  save  the  vilest 
sinners  ;  but  that  if  his  salvation  be  rejected,  there 
remains  no  hope  for  the  rebel — no  hope  !  J.  b. 


A  use;ful  sermon. 

In  the  summer  of ,  a  church  in  one  of  our 

Atlantic  cities  was  in  a  very  languid  condition.  The 
attendance  on  public  worship  was  large ;  but  meet- 
ings for  social  devotion  were  thinly  attended,  and  the 
services  were  heavy  and  spiritless.  The  little  life  of 
the  church  seemed  to  be  concentrated  in  a  few  who 
continued  to  walk  by  faith,  though  nearly  dispirited, 
while  the  great  majority  were  cold  and  worldly.  The 
pastor  had  for  months  been  oppressed  at  heart  by  the 
unpromising  state  of  things,  and  at  times  had  felt  that 
he  must  retire  from  a  field  where  severe  labor  had 
been  productive  of  so  little  fruit. 

After  earnest  prayer  for  divine  direction,  he  called 
together  six  of  the  more  prayerful  and  active  breth- 
ren, stated  to  them  his  feelings,  and  proposed  that 
they  should  hold  weekly  a  private  meeting  for  confer- 
ence and  prayer,  with  special  reference  to  a  revival  of 
piety  in  the  church.     The  proposition  was  cordially 


A  USEFUL  SERMON.  389 

received,  and  the  whole  seven,  upon  their  knees,  gave 
themselves  to  the  work.  It  was  then  agreed  to  invite 
two  more  to  join  them  at  the  next  meeting.  They 
came ;  and  two  were  added  at  every  successive  meet- 
ing. In  this  way  the  number  slowly  increased  through 
a  period  of  four  months.  The  meetings  were  held  in 
private  dwellings ;  few,  except  those  personally  invit- 
ed, knew  of  their  existence. '  The  pastor  was  encour- 
aged, especially  as  he  found  the  weekly  prayer-meet- 
ing more  fully  attended,  and  better  sustained  in  its 
devotional  services.  Towards  the  close  of  the  year, 
those  private  meetings  were  marked  with  a  peculiar 
tenderness  and  the  spirit  of  wrestling  prayer. 

On  Saturday  morning,  December  30,  the  pastor 
rose  at  a  very  early  hour,  and  commenced  the  prepa- 
ration of  a  discourse  for  Sabbath  evening,  from  the 
words,  "  Boast  not  thyself  of  to-morrow,  for  thou 
knowest  not  what  a  day  may  bring  forth."  As  it  was 
to  be  the  last  day  of  the  year,  he  wished  to  make  a 
solemn  appeal  to  the  unconverted  upon  the  danger  of 
presuming  on  the  future.  Scarcely  had  he  written 
the  introduction,  when  he  was  called  to  visit  an  es- 
timable young  man,  a  friend  of  his  earlier  years,  who 
was  regarded  as  near  his  end.  It  was  not  yet  day- 
light ;  but  he  hastened  to  the  chamber  of  the  sufferer, 
and  passed  two  hours  with  him,  endeavoring  to  direct 
his  attention  to  the  Saviour  whom  he  specially  need- 
ed. There  he  heard  from  the  lips  of  the  dying  words 
of  apparent  contrition  and  agonizing  desire,  which 
made  upon  his  mind  an  ineffaceable  impression.  He 
returned  to  his  sermon  with  a  practical  commentary 
upon  his  text  which  was  better  tlian  any  reasoning  of 
his  own.     As  yet,  however,  he  knew  not  the  purpose 


390  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

of  God  in  thus  burdening  his  mind  with  a  painful 
fact.  In  a  few  hours,  he  learned  that  the  young  man 
was  dead. 

■  The  next  morning,  he  preached  from  the  words  of 
Christ  to  the  cured  lunatic,  "  Go  home  to  thy  friends, 
and  tell  them  how  great  things  the  Lord  hath  done 
for  thee  ;"  showing  the  obligation  of  the  Christian  to 
labor  for  the  spiritual  i^ood  of  his  kindred.  After 
service,  he  was  summoned  to  a  scene  of  unutterable 
sorrow.  A  young  lady  of  his  congregation,  without 
any  apparent  cause,  had  terminated  her  own  life. 
How  dreadful  was  that  place!  There  was  anguish 
indeed.  His  burden  before  was  nearly  insupporta- 
ble. There  his  heart  was  crushed.  What  did  God" 
mean  by  this? 

In  the  evening,  with  such  emotions  as  he  had  never 
previously  known,  he  preached  the  sermon  prepared 
under  a  mountain  pressure.  The  house  was  densely 
filled ;  an  unusual  solemnity  pervaded  the  congrega- 
tion, but  it  was  not  known  that  in  all  the  crowd  there 
was  a  single  anxious  inquirer.  Tlie  discourse  was 
one  of  the  simplest  in  both  metliod  and  style,  but 
somehow  it  secured  unwonted  attention.  While  the 
preacher  was  describing  and  illustrating  the  uncer- 
tainty of  life,  a  lady,  overcome  by  the  strength  of  her 
emotions,  was  borne  insensible  from  the  house.  A 
silence,  unbroken  bj-  an  audible  breath,  reigned,  and 
paleness  camo  over  many  a  face.  At  the  close  of  the 
service,  a  minister  present  said  to  the  pastor,  "You 
will  hear  from  that  sermon." 

The  next  day,  the  first  Monday  in  the  year,  the 
church,  according  to  its  custom,  met  for  special  pray- 
er.   The  lecture-room  was  filled  :  there  Avas  a  general 


THE  YOUNG  PASTOR'S  TEMPTATION.      391 

melting  down  before  God ;  prayer  was  offered  with 
many  tears.  In  the  evening-,  more  came  than  could 
find  admittance.  It  was  then  evident  that  the  Holy 
Spirit  was  acting  with  power  upon  the  minds  of  the 
unconverted.  Meetings  were  multiplied,  and  con- 
stantly thronged.  There  was  excitement,  but  it  was 
deep,  still,  and  effective.  Every  sermon,  every  exhor- 
tation seemed  to  have. unusual  power,  and  do  unwont- 
ed execution.  The  revival  spread  to  other  congrega- 
tions, and  large  accessions  were  made  to  the  churches. 
The  number  added  to  that  one  church  during  the  year, 
by  profession,  was  one  hundred  and  seventy-seven, 
and  in  five  years  from  the  commencement  of  the  re- 
vival, five  hundred  and  two. 

The  pastor  did  hear  from  that  sermon,  and  often 
to  his  amazement.  He  had  the  pleasure  of  welcoming 
into  the  church  more  than  one  hundred  who  referred  to 
that  discourse  as  the  means  of  their  awakening  and 
conversion.  Several  others,  who  professed  their  faith 
elsewhere,  made  the  same  reference.  The  hand  of 
God  was  perceptible  in  the  whole  matter.  To  him 
belongs  the  glory.  s. 


THE  YOUNG  PASTOR'S  TEMPTATION. 

Many  years  ago,  in  the  commencement  of  his  min- 
istry, a  young  pastor  entered  his  pulpit  with  more  than 
usual  trembling.  He  had  endeavored  carefully  and 
prayerfully  to  prepare  himself  for  tlie  solemn  services ; 
he  had  selected  his  text  from  one  of  the  most  interest- 
ing portions  of  the  evangelical  prophet,  in  which  the 
richness  and  the  freencss  of  the  provisions  of  the  gospel 


392  SKETCHES   FROM  LIFE. 

are  foretold,  in  the  glowing  language  of  him  "  whose 
hallowed  lips  were  touched  with  fire."  The  herald  of 
mercy  anticipated  for  his  own  soul  "a  feast  of  fat 
things,"  and  a  joyful  season  in  preaching  Christ,  the 
bread  of  life,  to  his  perishing  fellow-sinners. 

It  was  a  beautiful  morning  in  midsummer  ;  the 
grove-in  which  the  temple  of  God  was  situated,  was 
melodious  with  the  songs  of  birds,  which  dwelt  in 
safety  there ;  the  zephyrs  that  played  through  the 
courts  of  the  Lord,  came  perfumed  with  the  fragrance 
of  meadow  and  field ;  the  hush  and  quietness  of  the 
Sabbath  morn  were  over  all ;  nature  itself  seemed 
subdued,  and  a  holy  awe  and  calm  serenity  to  impress 
every  pious  heart. 

A  large  and  solemn  congregation  waited  upon  the 
ministry  of  the  youthful  pastor.  The  service  com- 
menced, and  with  the  anthems  of  praise  and  the  offered 
prayer  his  confidence  increased,  his  fears  subsided, 
and  with  calm  assurance  he  rose  and  announced  his 
text :  "  When  the  poor  and  needy  seek  water,  and 
there  is  none,  and  their  tongue  faileth  for  thirst,  I  the 
Lord  will  hear  them,  I  the  God  of  Israel  will  not  for- 
sake them.  I  will  open  rivers  in  high  places,  and 
fountains  in  the  midst  of  the  valleys  :  I  will  make  the 
wilderness  a  pool  of  water,  and  the  dry  land  springs 
of  water."  Isa.  41  :  17,  18.  On  reading  these  words, 
he  cast  his  eyes  over  the  congregation,  when  in  a 
distant  part  of  the  house  he  noticed  the  intelligent 

countenance  of  a  gentleman  from  the  city  of  B n, 

whose  position  in  society  and  cultivated  mind  he  knew 
were  such  as  would  qualify  him  to  notice  and  appre- 
ciate the  deficiencies  of  the  speaker. 

Impressed  with  this  thought,  Satan,  always  ready 


THE  YOUNG  PASTOR'S  TEMPTATION.       393 

for  our  halting,  took  advantage  of  his  weakness,  and 
"the  fear  of  man,"  which  "bringeth  a  snare,"  took 
possession  of  his  mind.  He  commenced  his  sermon 
with  hesitancy,  and  although  he  used  every  effort  to 
overcome  his  embarrassment,  it  was  some  time  before 
he  could  rise  superior  to  the  depressing  influence  of 
fear.  It  was  a  barren  season.  Dissatisfied  with  him- 
self as  he  came  down  from  the  pulpit,  he  felt  ashamed 
to  look  his  brethren  in  the  face  as  they  clustered 
around  him,  lest  he  should  discover  in  their  looks  the 
failure  of  his  sermon.  He  was  tempted  to  make  a 
resolution  never  to  attempt  to  preach  again,  but  from 
this  temptation  he  was  mercifully  delivered.  The 
solemn  duties  of  his  office  pressed  upon  him,  and 
through  grace  he  was  led  more  humbly  to  preach  the 
gospel,  "not  with  excellency  of  speech,"  nor  "with 
enticing  words  of  man's  wisdom,  but  in  demonstration 
of  the  Spirit  and  of  power :"  his  desire  now  was,  not 
to  please  man,  but  "by  manifestation  of  the  truth,  to 
commend  himself  to  every  man's  conscience  in  the 
sight  of  God." 

It  was  not  many  weeks  before  God  was  pleased  to 
pour  out  his  Holy  Spirit  upon  the  church  and  congre- 
gation ;  believers  were  quickened,  their  graces  were 
revived,  and  sinners  were  converted.  A  revival  was 
enjoyed  which  extended  to  several  of  the  neighboring 
churches,  and  in  the  course  of  a  few  months  it  was 
the  privilege  of  the  young  pastor  to  welcome  fifty- 
eight  precious  souls  to  the  communion  of  the  church. 

Among  the  first  converts  received  was  Mrs.  T , 

the  mother  of  several  children  ;  in  giving  the  relation 
of  the  dealings  of  God  with  her,  she  stated  in  sub- 
stance as  follows : 

n* 


394  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

"  I  Tras  not  accustomed  to  attend  the  house  of  God, 
but  on  a  certain  Sabbath  last  summer,  I  was  induced 
to  come  to  this  place,  hoping  to  meet  a  friend  that  I 
greatly  desired  to  see.  I  had  no  wish  nor  expectation 
to  be  profited  b}^  the  religious  services,  but  as  soon  as 
I  entered  the  house  I  felt  that  God  was  in  the  place ; 
and  when  the  pastor  named  the  text,  '  When  the  poor 
and  needy  seek  water,'  etc.,  my  attention  was  arrested 
by  those  beautiful  words ;  and  as  the  minister  proceed- 
ed in  his  discourse,  my  interest  increased,  for  I  felt 
that  every  word  was  addressed  to  me,  and  that  the 
speaker  knew  and  was  describing  my  case  :  I  became 
very  uneasy ;  my  sins  began  to  rise  as  thick  clouds 
before  me,  and  to  weigh  heavily  on  my  soul ;  I  saw  I 
was  in  a  perishing  condition.  Oh,  what  will  become 
of  ray  poor  soul?  was  now  my  earnest  cry.  With 
downcast  eyes  and  a  heavy  heart  I  returned  to  my 
home,  but  not  to  enjoy  comfort  and  peace :  with  tears 
and  cries,  for  weeks  I  sought  the  mercy  of  God.  I 
was  almost  in  despair,  till  at  length  I  was  enabled  to 
exercise  faith  and  to  look  to  Calvary,  and  to  yield 
myself  to  Him  who  died  for  our  sins,  and  rose  again 
for  our  justification.  Then  did  I  find  that  when  the 
poor  and  needy  truly  seek  water,  and  turn  away  from 
the  broken  cisterns  of  this  world,  the  gracious  Lord 
will  hear  their  cry,  and  '  open  to  them  rivers  in  high 
places,  and  fountains  in  the  midst  of  the  valleys ;'  for 
to  my  thirsting  soul  the  river  of  life  has  come,  and 
with  joy  have  I  drawn  water  from  the  wells  of  salva- 
tion. I  praise  God  for  having  led  my  feet  to  the 
house  of  God  on  that  blessed  day,  when  so  precious  a 
sermon  was  preached,  which  proved  to  be  a  word  in 
season,  and  the  power  of  God  to  my  salvation." 


NEAR  THE  CROSS.  395 

Then  did  the  minister  bow  his  head  and  weep, 
while  he  lifted  his  heart  to  God  in  prayer  that  he 
might  never  distrust  him  again,  but  that  "his  strength 
might  be  made  perfect  in  weakness,"  and  that  ever 
after  he  might  preach  the  gospel  with  an  eye  single 
to  God's  glory. 

"  Sow  in  the  morn  thy  seed  ; 
At  eve  hold  not  thy  hand ; 
To  doubt  and  fear  give  thou  no  heed, 
Broadcast  it  o'er  the  laud. 

Thou  canst  not  toil  in  vain ; 

Cold,  heat,"  and  moist,  and  dry, 
Shall  foster  and  mature  the  grain 

For  garners  in  the  sky."  Davics. 


NEAR  THE   CROSS. 

A  venerated  father  says,  "  I  once  entered  a  colored 
congregation  of  four  or  five  hundred,  whom  one  of 
their  own  number  was  fervently  addressing.  He 
paused,  that  I  might  take  his  place ;  but  beckoning 
him  to  proceed,  he  went  on  nearly  in  the  following 
words : 

" '  Well,  my  Christian  friends,  I  was  a-goin'  to  say, 
you  all  know,  that  so  long  as  de  little  chicken  keeps 
near  its  mother,  it  finds  something  to  eat ;  but  when 
he  tink  he  know  better,  and  stray  away  from  his 
mother,  he  not  only  find  nothing  to  eat,  but  de  haiok 
do  come  and  pick  him  up.  Just  so  it  is  with  us,  my 
dear  friends ;  so  long  as  we  keep  near  de  foot  of  de 
cross  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  so  long  we  are  safe, 
and  we  do  find  spiritual  nourishment  for  our  souls ; 
but  when  we  tink  we  know  better,  and  we  stray  away, 


396  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE, 

not  only  -wo  do  find  no  spiritual  food  for  our  souls,  but 
Safa7i  do  come  and  pick  us  up.' 

"  Thus  the  speaker  continued  to  occupy  the  atten- 
tion of  his  audience,  in  a  strain  of  natural  eloquence 
well  suited  to  their  comprehension.  For  myself,  I 
was  so  truly  surprised,  delighted,  and  edified,  that 
fearing  to  detract  from  the  good  effect  already  so 
evidently  produced,  it  was  with  extreme  reluctance 
that  I  assented  to  follow,  even  in  a  few  words,  a  dis- 
course so  truly  admirable." 

A  pastor  states  that  he  was  once  placed  in  very 
similar  circumstances.  "  I  did  not  hear  the  text,"  he 
says,  "but  I  soon  found  that  the  preacher's  subject 
was  the  sickness  and  prayer  of  Hezekiah :  '  And  Ilez- 
ekiali  turned  his  face  towards  the  wall,  and  prayed 
unto  the  Lord.'  'And  why  towards  the  wall,  my 
Christian  friends?  First,  perhaps  it  was  to  turn 
away  from  wife,  children,  and  friends,  so  as  to  be 
more  alone  with  God  ;  or,  secondly,  perhaps  the  win- 
dows of  the  king's  apartment  looked  towards  mount 
Zion,  and  like  Daniel  in  captivity  praying  towards 
Jerusalem,  so  now  did  Hezekiah  turn  towards  that 
holy  temple,  where  the  bleeding  lamb  and  smoking 
sacrifice  spoke  to  him  of  a  Saviour  yet  to  come,  an 
atonement  yet  to  be  made  for  his  sins  and  the  sins  of 
the  world.' 

"From  this,  the  preacher  went  on,  in  a  most  inter- 
esting and  simple  manner,  to  touch  upon  the  great 
truths  of  the  New  Testament,  as  shadowed  forth  by 
the  whole  ceremonial  law,  and  revealed  more  clearly 
in  the  prophets.  Evidently  taught  by  the  Spirit,  this 
man,  despised  no  doubt  by  many  of  the  great  of  this 
world,  had,  in  the  diligent  study  of  his  Bible,  found 


THE  MISSION  OF  A  TEAR.  307 

that  'to  Jesus  Christ  give  all  the  prophets  witness' 
that  he  alone  is  the  Alpha  and  Omega  of  the  inspired 
word,  its  beginning  and  its  ending." 

It  struck  me,  that  these  fragments  of  the  discourses 
of  these  humble  preachers  were  most  appropriate  to 
our  times ;  for  what  numbers  do  we  see  who,  leaving 
the  simple  story  of  "  Jesus  Christ  and  him  crucified," 
seek  out  for  themselves  many  inventions,  philosophies 
falsely  so  called,  spirit-rappings,  mysticisms,  and  trans- 
cendentalisms. Broken  cisterns,  miserable  comforters 
are  these  all. 

Again,  how  many,  wise  in  their  own  eyes,  neglect 
the  Bible  as  the  inspired  word  of  God ;  and  groping 
thus,  blind  leaders  of  the  blind,  fail  to  discover  its 
highest  glory,  its  sublime  unity — Christ  and  his  salva- 
tion being  the  glorious  connecting  link,  reconciling 
every  part,  and  filling  the  whole  with  life  and  light 
and  peace.  h. 


THE  MISSION   OF  A  TEAR. 

Maternal  affection  and  confidence  in  God  prompted 
the  mother  of  Moses  to  hide  him  by  the  river's  brink. 
The  providence  of  God  directed  the  daughter  of  the 
king  to  select  the  proper  time  and  place  to  perform 
her  ablutions,  that  she  might  become  the  protectress 
of  the  helpless  infant.  When  the  ark  of  bulrushes 
was  discovered  and  brought  to  the  princess,  and  she 
had  opened  it,  "she  saw  the  child,  and  behold,  the 
babe  wept."  The  tears  and  plaintive  cry  of  the  child 
excited  compassion  in  the  bosom  of  the  high-born 
maiden,  and  she  became  the  foster-mother  of  the  future 


398  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

deliverer  and  lawgiver  of  God's  chosen  people.  Upon 
what  a  slight  incident,  to  human  view,  did  the  destiny 
of  Moses  turn.  Who  can  calculate  the  influence  of 
the  tears  of  that  child  upon  the  world,  in  all  time  and 
throughout  eternity? 

A  faithful  and  devoted  teacher  had  a  large  class 
of  young  ladies  committed  to  her  care,  in  the  Sabbath- 
school  connected  with  one  of  the  churches  in  the  city 
of  Philadelphia.  For  a  long  time,  Sabbath  after  Sab- 
bath, she  earnestly  labored  with  them,  seeking  to 
instil  into  their  minds  the  saving  truths  of  God's 
word.  The  class  were,  for  the  most  part,  respectful 
and  attentive,  and  evidently  much  attached  to  their 
teacher  ;  but  her  instructions  and  her  earnest  entrea- 
ties seemed  to  make  no  lasting  impression  on  their 
minds.  They  were  thoughtless,  inconsiderate  young 
people,  in  love  with  the  pleasures  of  the  world,  and 
charmed  with  the  scenes  of  gayety  by  which  they 
were  surrounded.  As  they  advanced  in  years,  they 
manifested  less  interest  in  the  exercises  of  the  class, 
and  were  at  times  disposed  to  turn  away  from  the 
warm  and  affectionate  pleadings  of  their  faithful 
friend  and  teacher. 

By  degrees  her  heart  became  discouraged  ;  she 
felt  that  her  labors  were  in  vain,  and  that  perhaps 
the  instructions  of  some  other  person  might  be  more 
appreciated  by  the  class,  and  result  in  their  conver- 
sion to  God.  On  one  occasion,  when  the  class  had 
been  more  inattentive  than  usual  to  the  instruction 

imparted.  Miss  S resolved  that  at  the  close  of 

the  session,  she  would  give  up  her  class-book  to  the 
superintendent,  and  request  him  to  appoint  another 
teacher  in  her  place.     As  she  came  to  this  conclusion, 


THE  MISSION  OF  A  TEAR.  31)9' 

sorrow  filled  her  heart,  and  tears  dimmed  her  eyes  :  it 
was  no  small  sacrifice  she  was  about  to  make ;  she 
loved  her  class,  the  afi'ections  of  her  heart  were  en- 
twined around  her.  pupils,  and  the  thought  that  these 
ties  must  now  be  sundered,  filled  her  with  distress. 

As  was  her  usual  practice,  she  addressed  a  few 
words  to  each  one  of  the  young  ladies  before  dismiss- 
ing them.  She  had  nearly  gone  through  the  class, 
when,  as  she  was  speaking  to  one  on  the  duty  to  yield 
her  heart  to  God,  and  no  longer  resist  the  invitations 
of  the  gospel,  she  saw  with  gratitude  and  joy  the 
quivering  lip,  and  a  tear  glistening  in  the  eye.  The 
influence  of  that  tear  was  electrical ;  hope  at  once 
sprang  up  in  the  heart  of  the  desponding  teacher,  and 
silently  her  heart  was  lifted  to  God  in  prayer  that  he 
would  deepen  the  impression  which  had  been  made. 
The  exercises  closed  with  a  deeper  seriousness  upon 
the  minds  of  all,  than  had  ever  been  noticed  before ; 
and  nothing  was  said  about  resigning  the  class. 

When  next  they  came  together,  it  was  evident  that 
the  Spirit  of  God  was  moving  on  the  hearts  of  several 
of  the  members  of  that  class,  and  the  teacher  labored 
with  new  zeal,  animated  by  the  remembrance  of  the 
tear  she  had  seen  in  the  eye  of  her  pupil. 

In  a  few  weeks,  she  in  whose  eye  tlie  pearl-drop  _ 
shone,  stood  before  the  church  to  give  a  reason  of  the 
hope  she  cherished  that  she  was  a  child  of  God.  She 
began  her  relation  by  referring  to  the  impressions 
made  upon  her  mind  on  that  Sabbath,  when  her  be- 
loved teacher  addressed  her  so  tenderly  and  solemnly 
on  the  duty  of  serving  God.  It  proved  to  be  a  "  word 
in  season."  Led  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  she  earnestly 
sought  the  pardon  of  her  sins  through  the  atoning 


400  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

sacrifice  of  the  Crucified,  and  God,  in  his  rich  mercy, 
had  spoken  peace  to  her  troubled  soul,  and  filled  her 
with  joy  unspeakable. 

The  conversion  of  this  dear  young  lady,  and  her 
consecration  to  God  in  baptism,  were  the  means  of 
the  awakening  of  many  others,  and  the  commencement 
of  a  gracious  work  in  the  church ;  and  in  the  course  of 
a  few  months,  thirteen  of  that  Bible-class  were  hope- 
fully converted  and  added  to  the  church,  several  of 
whom  became  faithful  and  devoted  Sabbath-school 
teachers. 

It  was  a  scene  that  angels  beheld  with  joy,  when 
these  happy  converts  clustered  around  their  teacher, 
and  related  how  deeply  they  felt  what  she  had  said 
to  them  on  that  ever-memorable  Sabbath ;  and  the 
teacher  told  them  how  discouraged  she  had  been,  that 
she  had  meditated  giving  up  the  class,  and  was  only 
prevented  from  doing  so  by  the  tear  which  sparkled 
in  the  eye  of  one  of  them.  And  now,  what  has  God 
wrought!  How  blessed  was  the  mission  of  that  tear, 
how  mighty  its  influence ;  who  can  comprehend  its 
results?  ' 

Laborers  for  Christ,  "  be  not  weary  in  well-doing ; 
for  in  due  season  ye  shall  reap,  if  ye  faint  not." 

"  Let  those  who  sow  in  sadness,  wait 
Till  tlie  fair  harvest  come ; 
They  shall  confess  their  sheaves  are  great, 
And  shout  the  blcssinsjs  home."  Davies. 


"YE  MUST  BE   BORN   AGAIN  " 

Solemnly  pondering  what  and  how  to  preach  the 
next   Sabbatli   to   the   })recious  souls  recently   taken 


"YE  MUST  BE  BORN  AGAIN."  401 

under  my  charge,  my  hostess,  the  good  wife  of  tlic 

deacon,  ventured  into  my  study,  saying,  "  Mrs.  C 

has  come  up,  this  morning,  to  inquire  about  the  new 
birth.  I  have  talked  with  her  as  well  as  I  knew  how, 
and  now  wish  you  would."  What  a  message !  the  first 
of  the  kind  I  had  ever  received ;  and  deep  awe  came 
over  my  spirit  at  the  vast  responsibility  thus  devolv- 
ing upon  me.  My  own  heart  had  called  for  anxious 
searching  whether  I  had  known  what  it  was  to  be 
born  again ;  but  I  must  now  instruct  and  counsel 
another  as  to  this  wonderful  work  of  the  Spirit  in  the 
human  soul. 

Oppressed  with  the  scantiness  of  my  knowledge 
and  experience  for  this  great  duty,  I  approached  the 
inquirer,  after  serious  thought  respecting  her  iumior- 
tal  interests.  I  learned  from  her  that  God  and  Christ 
appeared  to  her  as  they  never  had  before,  so  glorious 
were  they,  so  worthy  of  her  love ;  and  that  objects 
around  her  wore  a  new  aspect,  reflecting  the  glory 
of  their  Creator,  while  a  sweet  serenity  and  peace 
settled  upon  her  spirit.  "  And  now,  sir,  what  does 
this  mean  ;  and  what  am  I  to  think  of  myself?"  was 
her  inquiry.  My  business  was  to  instruct,  not  ,to 
decide  whether  she  was  now  a  subject  of  regeneration, 
but  to  guide  her  by  the  light  of  revealed  truth,  that 
with  her  Bible  and  prayer  she  might  learn,  under  the 
Holy  Spirit's  teaching,  whether  she  had  true  submis- 
sion to  God,  repentance,  and  faitli  in  the  Saviour. 
Following  on  to  know  the  Lord,  slie  gained  fuller 
views  of  divine  truth,  with  the  comfort  of  humljle 
hope,  professed  her  faith,  and  exemplified  tlic  Cliris- 
tian  character. 

Who  and  what  bront>-lit  that  woman   lo  uic  tliat 


402  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

morning  to  be  taught?  Ere  she  left  her  threshokl, 
God  had  already  taught  her  what  infinitely  surpassed 
my  power  to  impart.  His  "still  small  voice"  had 
spoken  in  her  heart ;  a  glimpse  of  his  moral  beauty 
had  shone  upon  her  soul,  and  she  was  filled  with  sur- 
prise and  wonder.  "  The  wind  bloweth  where  it  list- 
cth."  How  few  mothers  on  that  morning  left  the  care 
of  a  large  family,  to  ask  their  pastor  why  God  ap- 
peared so  glorious.  He  gave  her  her  errand,  and  in 
teaching  her,  taught  me  how  great  was  my  work  ;  and 
he  summoned  me  forthwith  to  visit  my  people,  and 
diligently  feed  the  flock  committed  to  my  charge.  I 
found  that,  to  encourage  me,  in  faintness,  weakness^ 
and  fear,  the  Lord  had  gone  before  me.  A  blessed 
work  of  the  Spirit  ensued,  the  subjects  of  which,  every 
one,  as  once  said  the  father  of  Samuel  J.  Mills,  "  will 
remember  it  long  after  the  judgment-day ^  s.  L. 


"I   AM   LIKE   THAT   LEAF." 

In  the  village  of  H ,  a  laborious  pastor  was 

standing  in  his  place  on  a  beautiful  Sabbath  of  Octo- 
ber, and  with  aching  heart  was  delivering  his  message 
to  a  people  that  seemed  indifferent  to  all  his  utterances. 
Behind  the  pulpit  was  a  window,  through  which  could 
be  seen  a  tree  whose  foliage  had  been  changed  by 
autumnal  frost.  A  young  man  in  a  remote  pew,  while 
gazing  listlessly  in  the  direction  of  the  pulpit,  saw  a 
leaf  separate  from  a  twig  of  the  tree,  and  with  slow 
vibrations  descend  to  the  ground.  Instantly,  he  said, 
as  if  the  leaf  had  a  tongue  and  spoke  to  him,  the  reflec- 
tion arose,  "/  am  like  that  leaf.      My  hold  on  life  is 


"I  AM  LIKE  THAT  LEAF."  403 

just  SO  slender.  I  may  soon  be  detached  and  fall  like 
that  sere  leaf.  Then  \rhere  shall  I  be  ?"  One  consid- 
eration started  another,  and  thought  piled  on  thought, 
until  his  mind  was  stirred  to  its  lowest  depths,  and  he 
was  in  an  agony  of  solicitude  respecting  his  prospects 
for  eternity.  God's  still  small  voice  in  the  leaf  spoke 
louder  to  him  than  thunder. 

But  this  case  stood  not  alone  in  that  Sabbath 
assembly.  Christ  had  his  eye  and  his  heart  upon 
another  precious  soul  of  that  company  to  whom  the 
anxious  pastor  thought  he  was  preaching  with  little 
effect.  There  was  another  preacher  and  another  ser- 
mon there,  in  a  form  which  the  minister  knew  not  of. 
At  the  close  of  the  service,  while  the  choir  was  sing- 
ing, 

"  Almighty  God,  thy  grace  impart, 
Fix  deep  conviction  in  each  heart," 

another  young  man,  who  was  looking  up  at  the  sing- 
ers, observed  that  a  pious  lady,  as  she  sung  those  lines, 
unaffectedly  raised  her  eyes  heavenward,  as  if  utter- 
ing an  earnest  prayer.  •'  Perhaps  she  is  praying  for 
me,"  was  instantly  his  reflection,  "and  yet  I  have 
never  prayed  for  myself.  AYretch  that  I  am,  to  live 
so  prayerless  and  mindless  of  God  and  the  future. 
What  can  I  expect  from  the  hand  of  a  righteous  God 
but  everlasting  destruction  ?"' 

The  train  of  thought  thus  started  by  God's  ser- 
mon in  the  leaf,  was  pursued  under  the  direction  of 
God's  Spirit  in  the  heart,  and  he  too  that  very  morn- 
ing became  intensely  anxious  to  know  what  he  should 
do  to  be  saved. 

In  the  evening,  both  of  tliese  young  men  were  found 
at  the  prayer-meeting,  and  there  tliey  expressed  a  de- 


404  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

sire  to  be  prayed  for,  and  to  be  guided  into  the  way 
of  life.  Tiie  effect  of  such  a  development  upon  the 
meeting  was  electric.  The  pastor  himself  and  most 
of  his  church  were  taken  by  surprise.  The  impgiii- 
tent  were  startled  and  awed.  It  was  a  time  of  con- 
fessions, tears,  and  prevailing  prayers.  A  revival  of 
great  power  ensued,  and  the  fruits  thereof  were  em- 
inently gracious. 

Though  God  thus  manifested  his  own  sovereignty 
in  these  instances,  by  so  choosing  means  as,  in  the 
words  of  Elihu  to  Job,  to  hide  pride  from  man,  and 
that  no  flesh  should  glory  in  his  presence,  he  so  exer- 
cised that  sovereignty  as  to  honor  his  own  appoint- 
ment that  he  will  be  inquired  of  by  the  house  of 
Israel  to  do  these  things  for  them.  It  subsequently 
became  known  that  a  few  members  of  the  church  had 
quietly  met  for  some  time  on  Saturday  evenings,  in  a 
private  house,  to  implore  the  influence  of  the  reviving 
Spirit.  The  yoiing  men,  too.  were  in  God's  place  for 
improvement,  the  sanctuary.  God,  we  have  seen, 
heard  and  answered,  but  in  his  own  way,  and  blessed 
were  the  results. 

How  seldom,  perhaps  never,  does  a  revival  occur, 
where  earnest  prayer  in  one  portion  of  the  church  or 
another,  in  one  family  or  another,  is  not  the  necessary 
antecedent.  And  how  seldom  docs  a  revival  com- 
mence just  in  the  line  of  human  expectations.  The 
sovereignty  of  God,  while  it  is  a  sovereignty  of  grace, 
is  always  exerted  in  his  own  divine  order  in  answer 
to  prayer.  And  the  practical  lesson  to  be  learned  by 
Christians  is,  to  give  ourselves  more  and  more  unto 
prayer,  and  to  be  willing  that  God  should  answer  as 
he  sees  best.     "  Trust  in  him  at  all  times,  ye  people ; 


"HE  WAS  BESIDE  HIMSELF."  405 

pour  out  your  heart  before  liim."  "  Lo,  all  these 
things  worketh  God  oftentimes  with  man,  to  bring 
back  his  soul  from  the  pit."  The  fall  of  a  leaf,  the 
upward  lifting  of  an  earnest  eye,  the  twitter  even 
of  a  bird,  may  be  used  by  the  Spirit  of  God  to  bring 
back  a  soul  to  himself,  when  prayer  is  made  for  that 
soul  with  fervor  and  faith.  Then  the  reflection,  "/ 
am  like  that  kaf,^^  may  be  the  soul's  first  step  in  its 
return  to  God.  h.  t.  c. 


"HE   WAS  BESIDE   HIMSELF." 

God  had  graciously  visited  the  village  of  H , 

in  New  Jersey,  with  a  refreshing  from  on  high,  and 
the  whole  community  were  more  or  less  influenced. 
Religion  was^  the  theme  of  conversation  in  every  cir- 
cle ;  groups  of  men  gathered  at  the  corners  of  the 
streets  and  in  the  places  of  business,  and  talked  of 
the  presence  of  the  Spirit  of  God.  Many  found  a 
"  place  to  pray  "  who  had  been  unaccustomed  to  bend 
the  knee,  and  many  a  dwelling  became  a  "house  of 
prayer,"  from  whose  altars  the  incense  of  praise  daily 
ascended.  The  social  meetings  were  thronged,  and 
the  voice  of  mourning  blended  with  the  songs  of  the 
converts  happy  in  their  new-born  hopes.  Every  hour 
brought  intelligence  of  new  cases  of  awakening,  and 
of  fresh  accessions  to  the  ranks  of  those  professing  to 
have  found  Jesus  precious  to  their  souls.  It  was  truly 
a  Pentecostal  season,  and  the  Lord  added  daily  to  his 
church.  Zion's  cords  in  that  beautiful  village  were 
lengthened,  and  her  stakes  strengthened. 

As  might  be  supposed,  the  revival  with  its  won- 


406  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

derful  scenes,  and  the  surprising  changes  which  were 
wrought,  occasioned  great  talk  and  excitement  in  the 
surrounding  country  and  neighboring  villages.  Some 
thought  the  people  in  H were  all  "  beside  them- 
selves," and  that  it  would  be  an  act  of  kindness  on 
the  part  of  their  more  rational  neighbors  to  step  in 
and  interpose  their  argument  and  authority  to  bring 
them  back  to  a  right  mind.  Of  this  way  of  thinking- 
was  I.  M.  E ,  an  inhabitant  of  a  village  six  miles 

distant.     He  had  at  one  time  resided  in  H ,  the 

scene  of  this  "wildfire  excitement,"  as  it  was  called, 
and  he  had  many  particular  friends  who  were  among 
the  number  of  the  "  deluded  ones."  Moved  with  com- 
passion for  their  miserable  condition,  he  determined 
to  make  one  effort  to  save  them  from  ruin,  and  for 
this  purpose  he  hastened  to  the  village  to  reason  with 
them  on  the  folly  of  their  conduct. 

He  could  not  ask  a  more  cordial  welcome  than 
his  friends  gave  him,  and  before  he  could  introduce 
the  purpose  of  his  visit,  he  was  affectionately  address- 
ed upon  the  subject  of  religion,  and  tenderly  and  ear- 
nestly entreated  to  become  a  Christian,  and  yield  his 
heart  to  God.  He  was  taken  by  surprise,  and  in  vain 
sought  to  turn  the  conversation  to  other  subjects,  or 
to  defend  himself.  He  could  say  nothing — he  could 
neither  command  words  nor  argume^its.  A  guilty 
conscience  condemned  him.  He  turned  away,  and 
sought  one  and  another  of  his  former  associates ;  but 
the  same  scenes  again  occurred  ;  all  talked  to  him  of 
Jesus  and  of  the  joys  of  religion,  and  gave  him  the 
same  affectionate  invitation,  "  Come  thou  with  us,  and 
we  will  do  thee  good." 

Excited,  he  turned  away  and  left  tliem,  disappoint- 


"HE  WAS  BESIDE  HIMSELF."  407 

ed  in  the  purpose  of  his  visit :  failing  to  convince  his 
friends  of  the  foolishness  of  their  course,  he  was  self- 
convicted  of  the  folly  of  his  own  ;  he  was  vexed-  with 
himself  and  angry  with  his  friends.  He  reached 
home  in  the  evening,  "being  exceedingly  mad"  against 
those  whom  he  had  visited.  At  an  early  hour  he  re- 
tired to  his  chamber  to  seek  repose,  and  while  every 
thing  around  him  was  still,  and  he  was  alone  with 
God,  conscience  awoke  from  a  profound  slumber,  and 
her  voice  was  heard  pronouncing  fearful  woes  against 
the  sinner ;  the  Spirit  of  God  came  upon  the  trem- 
bling culprit  in  the  might  of  his  power,  and  as  he  felt 
the  barbed  arrows  of  conviction  in  his  soul,  his  eyes 
were  opened  to  his  lost  condition.  Before  him  was 
the  pit  of  despair,  and  he  about  to  drop  into  the 
awful  gulf.  Overwhelmed  with  anguish,  as  he  felt 
himself  about  to  be  cast  into  hell, -he  began  to  call 
upon  God,  but  in  tones  so  loud  and  so  earnest  that 
the  neighbors  heard  him,  and  were  alarmed  at  his 
cries  of  distress.  The  family,  who  came  running  in, 
were  struck  with  affright  when  they  saw  his  counte- 
nance of  despair,  and  heard  his  agonizing  prayers. 
In  imploring  tones  he  called  on  them  to  pray  for  him  ; 
but  they  had  never  learned  to  pray  for  themselves, 
and  could  not  now  pray  for  him  ;  they  stood  pale  and 
trembling  as  in  the  very  presence  of  God. 

A  messenger  was  dispatched  in  all  haste  for  some 
young  Christian  men,  who  were  urged  to  come  and 

see  Mr.  E ,  for  "  he  was  beside  himself,''  wanting 

some  one  to  pray  for  him.  Gladly  they  hastened  to 
his  chamber,  and  found  him  almost  in  agony,  surround- 
ed by  his  pale  and  affrighted,  yet  prayerless  friends. 
The  visitors  soon  learned  from  the  lips  of  the  awak- 


408  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

ened  sinner  what  was  tlie  true  state  of  the  case ;  he 
had  looked  into  the  prison  of  despair,  and  his  sins 
were  pressing  him  down  like  mountain  weig-hts.  They 
prayed  for  him  and  with  him;  they  pointed  out  the 
way  of  salvation  through  the  peace-speaking  blood 
of  Jesus,  directing  his  mind  away  from  himself  to 
"  Christ,  and  him  crucified,"  and  together  sung  praises 
at  the  hour  of  midnight.  Blessed  be  the  name  of  our 
merciful  God,  long  before  the  rising  of  the  sun,  the 
"day-star"  of  hope  arose  in  the  heart  of  the  penitent, 
and  the  bright  beams  of  the  "  morning  star  "  streamed 
into  his  soul — the  storm  was  over  and  gone,  and  with 
"  anthems  of  rapture  "  he  was  enabled  to 
"  Praise  aud  bless  retleeming  love." 

The  next  morning,  while  the  report  of  his  being 
crazy  was  rapidly  spreading,  he  was,  in  the  happiness 
of  his  soul,  permitted  to  tell  to  all  around  that  lie 
was  "not  mad,"  but  had  "come  to  himself,"  and  was 
now  in  his  "  riglit  mind,  sitting  at  the  feet  of  Jesus." 

Tears  since,  he  emigrated  to  the  far  West,  where 
he  lived  an  honored  and  useful  member  of  the  church 
of  Christ.  Davics. 


THE   UNWELCOME   SNOW-STORM. 

Tliose  wlio  have  read  Dr.  Tyler's  memoir  of  tlic 
Rev.  Dr.  Nettlcton,  will  recollect  the  wonderful  re- 
vival of  religion  which  took  place  in  1820,  in  Nassau, 
about  nine  miles  east  of  Albany,  N.  Y.  To  show  the 
sovereignty  of  divine  grace,  I  state  the  following 
facts  relative  to  the  origin  of  that  revival. 

In  February  of  1820,  the  writer,  then  living  at  Sar- 


THE  UNWELCOME  SNOW-STORM.  409 

atoga  Springs,  a  young  man  looking  for-\vard  to  the 
ministry,  went  to  Malta,  ten  miles  from  the  Springs, 
to  enjoy  the  further  luxury  of  being  with  his  friend 
Dr.  Nettleton,  then  engaged  in  a  precious  revival  in 
that  region. 

We  spent  a  happy  day  at  liie  house  of  Mr.  P , 

who  had  been  a  Universalist,  but  was  then  a  humble 
convert ;  and  wlule  there  I  was  much  interested  in  the 

serious  appearance  and  conversation  of  Mrs.  C , 

an  intelligent  relative  of  Mr.  P from  Nassau, 

though  she  seemed  not  to  liave  deep  convictions  of 
sin. 

This  lady  appeared  to  be  anxious  to  converse  with 
Dr.  Xettleton  upon  the  subject  of  her  salvation.  She 
had  heard  him  preach  several  times,  but  he  had  not 
said  a  word  to  her.     He  evidently  avoided  doing 

what  Mrs.  C expected  and  desired  him  to  do.     I 

discovered  this,  and  asked  him  why  he  did  not  talk 
with  the  lady.  His  reply  was,  "  0,  she  is  expecting 
it  so  much."  That  night  there  was  to  be  a  prayer- 
meeting  at  the  house  of  Mr.  P ,  where  many  of 

the  young  converts  and  many  anxious  sinners  were 
expected  to  attend.  A  little  before  night  Dr.  Nettle- 
ton  proposed  to  me  to  ride  with  him  to  a  Mr.  D 's, 

about  a  mile  distant.     After  we  had  spent  a  short 

time  with  Mr.  D and  his  family.  Dr.  Nettleton 

said  to  me,  "  I  shall  not  return   with  you  to   Mr. 

P 's  to-night.     Do  you  go  back  and  conduct  the 

meeting  as  well  as  you  can.  I  give  it  up  to  you. 
Go."  It  was  in  vain  that  I  entreated  him  to  return 
and  take  charge  of  the  meeting.  He  positively  de- 
clined, and  I  left  hira  with  a  trembling  heart.  The 
people  would  expect  Dr.  Nettleton  to  be  there,  and 

Skrlchei.  1 8 


410  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

how  great  would  be  their  disappointment.  What 
should  1  do  ? 

However,  just  at  night  the  heavens  gathered 
blackness,  the  wind  blew  violently,  and  the  result 
Avas  one  of  the  most  furious  snow-storms  that  I  ever 
witnessed.  Not  a  soul  came  to  the  meeting.  We 
were  all  sadly  disappointed,  though  I  felt  relieved  of 
a  great  responsibility. 

Supper  being  ended,  and  finding  no  one  present 

except  the  family,  I  conversed  with  Mrs.  C as  to 

her  prospects  for  eternity.  I  soon  found  that  slie 
was  self-righteous,  trusting  in  her  daily  prayers  and 
her  amiable,  irreproachable  life,  I  endeavored  to 
show  her  that  her  prayers  were  dead,  her  heart  unre- 
newed, and  her  precious  soul  under  the  condemnation 
of  God's  holy  law.  The  smile  which  had  been  pla}-- 
ing  upon  her  lips  instantly  passed  away ;  she  raised 
and  fixed  her  eyes  upon  me,  and  sat  in  silence.  New 
thoughts  were  passing  in  her  mind.  She  saw  that  she 
was  lost.  She  burst  into  tears,  arose,  and  went  to  her 
room,  and  did  not  return  for  some  time. 

There  was  sitting  in  the  room  Miss  J ,  a  daugli- 

ter  of  Mr.  P ,  who  had  passed  thus  far  through  the 

revival  without  sharing  its  benefits.  I  immediately 
turned  to  her,  and  began  to  talk  with  her  about  her 
soul.  She  listened  very  attentively  a  few  minutes, 
became  agitated,  burst  into  tears,  and  left  the  room. 
After  a  while  both  of  these  ladies  returned  to  the 
sitting-room  bathed  in  tears,  and  writhing  under  the 
deepest  convictions.  I  pointed  them  to  the  blessed 
Redeemer  ;  we  prayed  with  and  for  them  again  and 
again,  and  in  this  way  we  spent  a  great  part  of  the 
niffht — a  niorht  never  to  be  fors^otten.      At  leno-th 


THE  UNWELCOME  SNOW-STORM.  411 

morning  came,  but  no  light  dawned  upon  those  be- 
nighted souls.  To  them,  all  seemed  as  dark  as  Egypt. 
We  prayed  for  them,  and  wept  over  them;  but  God 
alone  could  relieve  them. 

Perhaps  about  eleven  o'clock  I  said  to  Mrs.  C . 

"Will  not  your  heart  yet  yield  to  God?"  Putting 
her  hand  to  her  breast,  and  fixing  her  streaming  eyes 
upon  me,  she  exclaimed,  "  My  heart  will  kill  me." 

Soon  after  this,  the  storm  without  having  passed 
away,  I  stepped  into  a  sleigh  and  rode  over  to  Mr. 

D 's  to  inform  Dr.  Nettleton  of  what  God  was 

doing.  In  relating  the  solemn  transactions  of  the 
night  and  the  morning,  I  mentioned  to  Dr.  Nettleton 

the  striking  expression  of  Mrs.  C ;  "  My  heart  will 

kill  me."  Instantly  he  replied,  "That  woman  is  near 
the  kingdom  of  heaven.     I  will  go  back  with  you." 

We  returned,  and  as  we  entered  the  house  Mrs. 

C and  Miss  P both  came  rushing  from  their 

room  with  countenances  beaming  with  holy,  heavenly 
joy.    The  moral  storm  was  over.    All  was  calm.    Mrs. 

C ran  to  Dr.  Nettleton,  seized  his  hand,  and  stood 

for  some  moments  overwhelmed  with  emotion.  As  she 
stood  weeping  for  joy.  Dr.  Nettleton  asked  her,  "  Have 
you  submitted  your  heart  to  God?"  Her  answer  was 
spontaneous  and  singular  :  "  0  yes,  sir — but  no  thanks 
to  you."  Dr.  Nettleton  was  almost  convulsed  with 
laughter,  which  was  very  unusual  with  him. 

That  afternoon  Mrs.  C ,  while  her  heart  was 

almost  bursting  with  joy,  wrote  a  letter  to  one  of  her 
friends  in  Nassau,  which  she  read  to  me.  That  sim- 
ple letter,  giving  an  account  of  her  own  convictions 
of  sin  and  hopeful  conversion,  was  the  means,  in  God's 
hands,  of  awakening  several  impenitent  sinners. 


412  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

When  Mrs.  C returned  to  Nassau,  she  found 

some  deep  seriousness,  and  immediately  wrote  to  Dr. 
Nettleton,  begging  him  to  repair  to  the  place  as  soon 
as  possible.  He  went,  and  the  glorious  results  a?'e 
well  known  to  all  who  are  acquainted  with  the  life 
and  labors  of  that  extraordinary  man. 

"  Behold  how  great  a  matter  a  little  fire  kindleth  !" 
How  mysterious  arc  the  ways  of  the  Almighty.  If 
Dr.  Nettleton  had  returned  with  the  writer  to  Mr. 

P 's  on  that  night,  or  if  that  storm  had  not  come, 

and  that  house  had  been  filled  with  people,  would 
those  personal  conversations  have  taken  place? 

N.    H. 


A   GRATEFUL   CONVERT. 

A  new  church  had  been  erected  in  a  destitute  part 
of  an  eastern  city,  a  faithful  pastor  had  commenced 
his  labors,  the  Spirit  of  God  had  descended,  and 
among  those  brought  to  Christ  was  an  infidel,  from  a 
large  circle  of  friends,  over  whom  he  was  exerting  a 
deadly  influence.  Being  called  to  spend  some  months 
at  the  West,  he  wrote  to  his  pastor  in  the  fulness  of 
his  overflowing  heart.  God  grant  that  such  events  as 
are  here  referred  to,  may  be  witnessed  in  every  part 
of  our  land. 

"  I  feel,"  he  says,  "  the  same  anxiety  for  the  pros- 
perity of  our  little  band,  the  same  prayer  for  them  is 
daily  offered,  and  they  are  as  often  in  my  thoughts  as 
ever.  My  hope  is  now  in  God,  and  my  heart  goes 
forth  to  them  who  worship  him.  The  world  grows 
smaller  in  my  esteem ;  I  find  that  I  love  a  different 
object  from  what  I  formerly  did,  and  'my  brethren' 


A  GRATEFUL  CONVERT.  413 

come  in  for  a  good  share  of  that  love.  I  rejoice  to 
hear  that  others  arc  enlisting  under  the  banner  of  our 
Lord.  The  tidings  of  additions  at  the  last  commun- 
ion bring  tears  of  gratitude.     Is  it  so,  indeed,  that 

our  mutual  friend ,  who  has  done  so  much  for  our 

enterprise,  has  been  blessed  himself,  and  that  my  son 

C also  has  come  out  on  the  Lord's  side — that 

both  have  entered  into  a  holy  covenant  to  be  the 
Lord's?     Truly  this  is  great  cause  of  joy. 

"  How  changed !  Ridiculed  as  was  the  builder  of 
that  house  by  me,  the  motives  questioned,  and  vain 
and  foolish  declarations  as  to  the  whole  enterprise 
coming  from  my  lips  ;  yet  in  this  short  space  of  time 
the  majority  of  my  family,  father,  mother,  and  son, 
are  members  of  that  church,  and  myself  rejoicing 
'  with  joy  unspeakable,'  that  God  directed  my  steps 
there  to  see  that  edifice  given  to  his  cause.  Truly  I 
can  say,  '  God's  ways  are  not  our  ways.'  He  has 
turned  folly,  ridicule,  and  blasphemy  into  praise  for 
redeeming  love.  He  has  enlightened  a  poor  deluded 
soul  to  see  the  pit  from  whence  he  was  digged,  and 
has  turned  '  darkness  into  marvellous  light.' 

"  Well  may  my  old  acquaintances  reproach  me  for 
the  change.  '  Help  me,  0  Lord  my  God  ;  0  save  me 
according  to  thy  mercy,  that  they  may  know  that. this 
is  thy  hand,  that  thou.  Lord,  hast  done  it.'  I  am  still 
striving  to  live  that  I  may  be  prepared  to  die.  I  am 
still  'a  miracle  of  grace,'  and  a  happy  man,  as  my 
flowing  tears  of  gratitude  testify.  Will  you  say  to 
our  little  band,  that  they  are  remembered,  and  that 
my  prayer  is,  that  many  more  may  be  added  to  them 
*of  such  as  shall  be  saved.'  May  we  all  'grow  in 
grace,  and  in  the  knowledge  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.' 


414  SKETCHES  FROM   LIFEt 

Ask  my  brethren  to  be  faithful  to  their  covenant 
vows ;  to  '  speak  often  one  to  another,'  and  let  the 
world  know  that  they  are  on  the  Lord's  side,  and  love 
each  other.  Then  will  the  Holy  Spirit  dwell  with  us, 
and  we  shall  prosper."  w.  A. 


SQUIRE   D AND   THE   TEACHER. 

Travelling  in  a  mountainous  region  at  night-fall 
of  a  tempestuous  day,  and  having  lost  my  road,  I  was 

directed  for  a  lodging  to  "  Squire  D 's,  who  keeps 

the  ferry."     After  supper,  I  had  a  pleasant  talk  with 

the  father  of  Squire  D ,  on  whose  head  the  snows 

of  eiglity  winters  had  fallen,  and  soon  the  family  were 
gathered  around  us,  engaged  in  delightful  converse. 
I  had  heard  of  the  high-handed  wickedness  of  a  neigh- 
borhood not  far  off,  with  which  my  host  was  well 
acquainted,  where,  when  a  young  man  who  had  wan- 
dered to  a  city  was  to  be  hung  for  murder,  his  father 
and  other  relatives  celebrated  the  day  with  a  line 
supper  and  a  dance  :  no  school  could  be  kept,  for  the 
boys  had  whipped  off  every  teacher  who  came  among 
them ;  and  meetings  were  frequently  held  in  mockery 
of  religious  worship. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  the  squire,  with  just  enough  of  the 
Welsh  accent  to  betray  his  origin,  "  and  our  neighbor- 
hood here  was  just  as  bad  ten  years  ago  ;  we  were  all 
alike ;  no  church,  no  preacher,  no  Sunday-school,  no 
day-school.  One  evening  a  minister  and  a  young  lady 
stopped  at  my  house  for  the  night ;  I  thought  them 
very  inquisitive  people.  They  asked  if  we  had  any 
preaching.     No.     Any  schools  ?     No ;  we  have  had 


* 
SQUIRE  D AND   THE  TEACHER.  415 

several  teacher?,  but  no  one  will  stay  more  than  a 
quarter  with  us.  The  young  lady  said  she  Avould  come 
and  take  a  school  among  us,  if  we  would  employ  her. 
After  some  further  conversation,  I  told  her  I  w^ould 
see  what  could  be  done  and  write  her  the  result. 
Next  morning  they  left  for  the  minister's  home  at 
M ,  some  fifty  miles  distant. 

"  In  a  short  time  I  had  a  school  made  up  and  board 
engaged  for  the  new  teacher,  and  wrote  her  to  tiiat 
cflfect.  She  came,  and  commenced  her  school  at  the 
time  appointed.  But  soon  there  was  complaint  that 
the  new  teacher  read  the  Bible  and  prayed  in  her 
school.  And  her  troubles  did  not  stop  here.  The 
man  at  whose  house  she  boarded  insisted  that  she 
should  leave,  because  she  prayed,  sung  hymns,  and 
would  keep  talking  about  religion  all  the  time.  Miss 
H then  set  out  to  look  up  another  home  for  her- 
self; she  applied  to  most  of  her  employers,  but  met 
with  the  same  reply  from  all :  '  We  cannot  receive 
you,  unless  you  leave  off  praying  and  singing.' 

"  When  she  applied  to  me,  I  objected  on  the  same 
grounds.  Finally,  I  told  her  if  she  would  come  on  my 
own  terms,  I  would  take  her  into  ray  family.  She 
inquired  what  those  terms  were.  '  Why,'  said  I,  'you 
shall  have  such  a  room  to  yourself;  there  you  are  to 
stay  from  the  time  you  return  from  school  until  you 
start  to  go  back,  only  when  you  come  to  your  meals ; 
you  must  not  sing  hymns ;  you  may  pray  as  much  as 
you  please,  but  mind  you  don't  let  us  hear  you  at  it ; 
and  remember,  the  first  time  you  infringe  this  con- 
tract, you  leave  the  premises.  To  all  this  she  agreed, 
with  as  much  meekness  as  if  my  terms  had  been  rea- 
sonable and  right.     That  evening  she  took  up  her 


416  SKETCHES  FROM   LIFE. 

abode  under  my  roof;  and  little  did  I  think  what  a 
blessing  God  was  sending  me  in  that  frail,  delicate 
girl. 

"  The  children  all  loved  the  new  teacher  very  much. 
So  one  day  she  told  them  to  ask  their  parents'  per- 
mission, and  if  they  w^ere  agreed,  she  would  teach 
them  on  Sunday  too.  This  proposal  pleased  us  all. 
If  she  taught  on  Sunday,  that  was  so  much  clear  gain 
to  us.  And  to  school  the  children  went  every  Sun- 
day with  clean  clothes  and  clean  faces. 

"  I  soon  observed  that  my  children  took  to  staying 
in  the  teacher's  room  much  of  their  time.  At  length, 
one  Sunday  morning,  they  came  down  with  some 
tracts ;  I  looked  over  them,  and  found  they  were  on 
the  subject  of  religion.  Ah,  said  I,  my  lady,  I've 
caught  you  now.  I  called  her  down,  told  her  she  had 
violated  her  contract,  and  must  be  off.  The  poor  girl 
began  to  weep;  I  felt  ashamed.  'Dear  sir,'  said  she, 
'  will  you  read  these  tracts?  If  you  do,  and  still  con- 
tinue in  your  present  mind,  I  will  leave  your  house 
immediately.' 

"  Here  was  a  pretty  fix  ;  the  children  were  all  cry- 
ing, and  begging  me  not  to  send  Miss  H away ; 

and  the  books.  Oh,  they  could  not  part  with  the  books. 
I  was  mightily  perplexed  ;  at  last  I  gave  in.     Said  I, 

'  Miss  H ,  you  may  go  back  to  your  room ;  I  will 

consider  the  matter.'  I  shall  never  forget  the  smile 
that  passed  over  her  face  as  she  thanked  me  and  went 
back  to  her  room.  Thanked  me,  indeed!  1  deserved 
a  sound  beating  instead  of  thanks.  Well,  I  set  to 
work,  read  one  of  the  tracts,  felt  self-condemned ; 
read  it  again,  felt  dreadfully  troubled.  Then  I  read 
them  all,  and  felt  tliat  I  was  a  great  sinner.    I  said 


SQUIRE  D AND  THE  TEACHER.  417 

'1  (ii'''P      "~     "Trill*  '-      ii 


nothing  more  to  Miss  H about  leaving  my  house. 

Each  day  my  convictions  became  deeper.  At  last,  I 
could  bear  it  no  longer.     Thought  I,  this  wont  do  ;  I 

must  talk  with  Miss  H .    So  I  invited  her  to  come 

and  sit  with  us  in  the  family  room.  She  cheerfully 
complied.  I  asked  her  a  great  many  questions  about 
the  doctrines  of  the  Bible,  not  meaning  to  let  her 
know  any  thing  about  my  concern.  But  all  would 
not  do ;  my  distress  continued,  or  rather  my  agony, 
for  I  thought  I  was  the  greatest  sinner  on  earth. 

"At  last,  I  sent  one  evening  for  Miss  H to 

come  down,  and  I  told  her  my  troubles ;  for  my  proud 

heart  was  well-nigh  broken.     Said  I,  'Miss  H ,  I 

feel  so  and  so  ever  since  I  read  those  tracts  of  yours ;' 
18* 


418  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE.       . 

and  I  related  all  that  was  passing  in  my  mind ;  and 
said  I,  '  do  you  think  there  is  any  mercy  or  hope  for 
such  a  poor  miserable  sinner?'  The  tears  began  to 
run  down  her  cheeks ;  then  she  laughed  ;  then  she 
caught  me  by  both  hands,  and  looking  up  into  my 
face,  she  said,  '  Oh,  my  dear  friend,  I  am  so  glad.' 
'Why,'  said  I,  'are  you  glad  because  I  am  in  trou- 
ble?' 'Oh,  my  dear  sir,'  says  she,  'this  is  the  Spirit 
of  God  operating  on  your  heart.'  All  at  once  a  great 
light  seemed  to  shine  into  my  mind.  All  that  I  had 
been  learning  for  so  many  weeks  seemed  now  just  as 

plain  as  A  B  C.     Said  I,  '  Come,  Miss  H ,  kneel 

down  then,  and  pray  for  me  ;'  and  she  did  pray  for  me, 
and  I  do  bless  God  for  his  wonderful  mercy  to  such  a 
poor  hardened  sinner.  I  believe  that  God  did  change 
my  heart  just  while  that  very  prayer  was  going  up. 
All  at  once  it  just  came  ;  I  lo\;ed  my  Bible  and  I  loved 
to  pray,  and  I  could  not  bear  the  company  that  I  used 
to  take  so  much  delight  in. 

"  On  the  next  Sabbath,  Miss  H asked  me  to 

go  along  with  her  and  the  children  to  school — which 
was,  and  had  been  a  Sunday-school,  though  we  never 
suspected  it — and  here  came  a  trial.  If  I  go,  they 
will  say  I  am  getting  religious ;  if  I  stay,  it  will  be  a 
sin,  for  I  know  I  ought  to  go  ;  and  then  it  will  grieve 

Miss  H .      These  last  considerations   were   the 

strongest ;  so  I  went.  The  room  was  crowded  with 
children,  all  waiting  for  their  teacher  ;  I  thought  they 

all  looked  happy.     After  a  little  while.  Miss  H 

took  the  Bible,  and  coming  to  me,  she  said, '  Mr.  D , 

will  you  read  and  pray  with  us  this  morning  ?'  I  was 
startled ;  my  very  heart  trembled.  Said  I,  '  Oh,  no  ; 
not  now.'     Then  she  read  a  chapter  and  prayed  her- 


SQUIRE  D AND  THE  TEACHER.  419 

self.  Oh,  how  I  felt,  to  think  that  I  was  ashamed  to 
pray  before  those  children !  Ah,  thought  I,  this  will 
never  do ;  I  will  come  here  and  pray  next  Sunday. 
That  night  I  read  and  prayed  with  my  family  ;  and 
the  next  Sabbath  I  opened  the  school  with  prayer. 

"The  news  spread  soon  all  through  the  settle- 
ment.    D has  got  religion,  and  is  praying  in  the 

Sunday-school !     D going  to  school  on  Sunday. 

and  praying !  very  strange  news  this.  Very  soon  the 
people  began  to  drop  in  to  our  Sunday-school ;  every 

Sunday  a  regular  increase.    Then  Miss  H said  to 

me,  '  You  had  better  read  us  a  sermon  at  the  Sunday- 
school,  after  the  other  exercises  are  over.'  She  select- 
ed the  sermons,  and  I  read  them.  Our  meetings  grew 
very  solemn.  Presently  we  sent  word  to  a  good  man 
at  B to  send  us  a  minister  ;  he  did  so.  The  min- 
ister came  and  preached  for  us.  The  little  school- 
house  could  not  contain  one-half  the  people  who 
crowded  to  hear  him.  We  held  our  niceting-s  in  the 
open  air,  under  the  trees. 

"  Ah,  that  was  a  wonderful  time ;  the  cry  of  the  anx- 
ious sinner  went  up  from  every  hearth-stone  and  roof- 
tree.  The  Spirit  of  God  was  moving  mightily  upon 
the  hearts  of  the  people,  and  many  were  born  into  the 
kingdom  every  day.  All  this  brought  a  great  change 
in  our  settlement.  Instead  of  the  dance,  and  the 
gaming-table,  and  the  foolish  song,  we  had  meetings 
for  prayer  and  praise ;  and  the  tavern  and  still-house 
were  exchanged  for  the  temple  of  God. 

'•  The  Sabbath  became  a  day  of  holy  rest  among  a 
people  who  used  to  spend  it  in  revelry  or  idleness. 
Houses  of  worship  were  built,  where  our  population 
flocked  every  Sabbath  to  hear  the  preached  word  from 


420  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

the  Irving  minister  ;  and  in  the  course  of  two  or  three 
years,  hundreds  professed  faith  in  Christ,  and  joined 
the  church.  We  have  had  a  flourishing  church  here 
ever  since.  Ah,"  said  the  good  man,  in  his  peculiar 
emphatic  way,  "  see  what  God  hath  Avrought  for  us." 

How  often  liave  I  reproached  myself,  when  I  con- 
trasted the  heroic  conduct  of  this  devoted  female  with 
my  own  man-fearing  spirit!  She  has  gone  to  her 
reward  ;  her  memory  will  be  cherished  for  a  few  more 
years  in  the  hearts  of  those  to  whom  her  humble  ef- 
forts were  of  such  immense  value,  and  then  pass  away 
and  be  forgotten.  But  her  influence  Avill  pass  on,  an 
ever-increasing  current,  down  the  long  tracts  of  time, 
and  throughout  the  endless  ages  of  eternity. 

J.  c. 


"VOYAGE   OF   THE  DUFF  "—STRIKING 
PROVIDENCE. 

Who  has  not  heard  or  read  of  the  ship  Duff,  and 
of  her  missionary  voyages,  and  of  her  pious  and  excel- 
lent captain,  James  Wilson  ?  At  six  in  the  morning, 
August  10,  1796,  she  sailed  from  London  for  the 
Southern  Pacific  ocean.  The  missionary  flag,  three 
doves  bearing  olive-branches  in  their  bills,  was  raised 
to  her  masthead,  her  sails  were  given  to  the  favoring 
breezes,  and  to  the  music  of  a  hundred  voices  singing 
the  hymn, 

"Jesus,  at  thy  command  we  launch  into  the  deep," 
she  turned  her  bow  to  the  billows,  to  convey  the  be- 
loved men  wnth  whom  she  was  freighted  to  the  pagan 
islands  to  which  they  were   destined.     These  men, 
Cover,  Eyre,  Jefiferson,  and  Lewis,  with  twenty-five 


"VOYAGE  OF   THE   DUFF."  421 

others,  formed  tlio  first  company  sent  out  by  the  Lon- 
don Missionar}'  Society  for  the  recovery  of  the  hea- 
ther, world  to  Christ.  Anlid  peculiar  trials  and  many 
divine  interpositions,  she  pursued  her  voyage:  she 
doubled  the  stormy  cape  in  safety — she  visited  Ota- 
licitc,  the  Marquesas,  and  other  islands — she  landed 
her  missionaries  on  the  islands  selected  for  the  com- 
mencement of  the  work  of  missions;  and  after  a  three 
years'  voyage,  whose  narrative  forms  some  of  the  most 
delightful  chapters  in  the  history  of  modern  missions, 
she  returned  home  to  England,  to  make  another  at  a 
subsequent  period. 


The  narrative  of  this  voyage  was  soon  published 
in  London,  dedicated  to  the  king.  It  excited  extra- 
ordinary attention  among  all  classes  in  England,  by, 
the  revelations  which  it  made  of  the  awful  degrada- 
tion of  the  islanders  of  the  Pacific.  The  book  was 
republished  in  America,  and  although  there  were  no 
tract  societies  to  print  it,  nor  colporteurs  to  scatter 


422  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

it  over  the  land,  it  obtained  for  that  day,  a  wide  cir- 
culation. 

At  that  time  there  was  a  settlement  amid  the  woods 
of  Western  Pennsylvania,  composed  mainly  of  Pres- 
byterian emigrants  from  Scotland  and  Ireland,  and 
their  descendants,  a  people  whose  influence  in  shaping 
the  institutions  of  our  country  has  been  great  indeed. 
It  was  occasionally  visited  by  a  missionary,  whose 
visits  were  long  anticipated  with  pleasure,  and  remem- 
bered with  gratitude.  By  some  kind  providence  a 
copy  of  the  narrative  of  the  voyage  of  the  ship  Duff 
was  conveyed  to  this  settlement.  A  good  new  book 
was  then  regarded,  when  there  were  so  few  in  circula- 
tion, as  a  great  acquisition  to  a  family,  and  even  to  a 
village.  The  volume  went  from  house  to  house,  until 
it  was  read  by  many  throughout  the  settlement.  In 
one  of  these  families  was  a  young  man,  on  whose  mind 
the  perusal  of  this  volume  made  a  deep  impression, 
not  only  as  to  the  value  and  necessity  of  true  religion, 
but  of  missions  to  the  heathen. 

Soon  afterwards  this  settlement  and  the  region 
around  w^ere  visited  with  a  great  and  blessed  revival 
of  religion,  the  influence  of  which  is  felt  (o  the  pres- 
ent day.  The  young  man  to  whom  I  have  alluded 
was  among  the  first  subjects  of  the  good  work ;  and 
ere  long  he  commenced  a  course  of  preparation  for 
the  work  of  the  ministry,  or  of  a  missionary.  Cir- 
cumstances which  he  could  not  control,  just  as  he  was 
concluding  his  studies,  gave  an  entire  change  to  his 
subsequent  life,  but  without  in  any  degree  calling  off 
his  mind  and  aflection  from  the  ministry  or  the  hea- 
then world. 

It  was  to  him  a  day  of  joy  when  his  first  son  was 


"VOYAGE  OF  THE  DUFF.  423 

born.  Remembering  the  vows  whicli  he  once  made, 
but  which  he  was  prevented  from  fulfilling,  he  dedi- 
cated that  infant  son  to  God.  That  son  was  hope- 
fully converted  in  his  youth ;  and  when  prepared  for 
the  work  of  the  ministry,  devoted  himself  to  God  as 
a  missionary  to  the  heathen.  He  went  to  India,  where 
his  feeble  health  permitted  him  to  remain  only  a  few 
years;  but  in  those  years  he  laid  the  foundation  of 
missionary  operations  in  Northern  India,  which  from 
their  commencement  have  been  remarkably  suc- 
cessful. 

This  father  had  another  son  born  to  him,  who, 
early  in  life,  was  made  a  subject  of  saving  grace,  and 
devoted  himself  to  the  ministry.  The  heathen  world 
opened  before  him;  and  although  endowed  with  tal- 
ent and  acquisition  which  would  have  made  him  the 
ornament  of  any  pulpit  in  our  land,  he  selected  down- 
trodden, perilous  Africa  as  the  field  of  his  labors. 
The  fact  that  so  many  missionaries  found  in  Africa  an 
early  grave,  seemed  only  to  strengthen  his  resolution 
to  go  there.  And  he  was  induced  to  yield  his  prefer- 
ence only  by  his  brethren,  who  wished  him  to  enter 
the  wide  field, just  then  providentially  opened  in 
China  by  the  success  of  the  British  arms.  No  more 
able  or  promising  missionary  has  the  church  of  God 
sent  to  that  country.  There,  for  a  few  years,  he 
labored  with  untiring  zeal,  respected  and  beloved  by 
all  with  whom  he  had  to  do.  And  when  the  centre 
of  many  high  hopes  and  expectations — when  best 
qualified  to  discharge  his  duties — when  exerting  a 
wide  influence  at  home  and  abroad,  and  in  the  zeal- 
ous pursuit  of  his  one  great  object,  the  conversion  of 
China  to   God,  the   Christian  world  was  called  to 


424  sketchp:s  from  life. 

mourn  his  death  by  the  hands  of  cruel  pirates.  •  Long 
will  the  winds  that  sweep  over  the  Chinese  seas  be 
regarded  as  singing  his  requiem.  And  although  his 
grave  is  amid  the  pearls  and  corals  of  the  ocean,  many 
a  voice  will  be  lieard  rising  from  it  througli  coming 
generations  calling  upon  the  sons  of  the  church  to 
devote  themselves  to  the  salvation  of  China. 

It  is  not  for  me  to  say,  nor  for  man  to  know,  all 
the  influence  of  that  one  book  in  preparing  the  way 
for  that  revival  of  religion— in  preparing  the  mind  of 
that  young  man  to  receive  the  impress  of  the  Holy 
Spirit — in  inspiring  that  faith  which  led  the  father  to 
give  up  his  sons  for  the  work  of  the  ministry,  and  of 
missions — in  laying  the  foundations  of  influence  in 
India  and  China,  which  will  continue  increasingly  for 
ever.     Yet  the  narrative  teaches  us, 

1.  The  real  value  of  a  good  book.  What  would 
bo  the  blessing  to  the  church  of  the  ministry  of  such 
men  as  Baxter,  Doddridge,  Whitefield,  continued  in 
its  vigor  for  a  thousand  years.  And  a  good  book, 
more  eloquently  than  they,  and  to  far  more  people, 
may  preach  for  that  number  of  years  twice  told! 
Well  may  any  nmn  exclaim,  0  for  grace  and  strength 
to  write  a  good  book  or  tract ! 

2.  It  teaches  the  importance  of  circulating  good 
books.  A  boy  found  an  old  volume  of  poetry,  cov- 
ered with  dust,  on  the  sill  of  a  window  in  his  father's 
house.  Its  perusal  led  him  to  attempt  poetry,  and 
he  became  one  of  the  greatest  of  English  poets.  We 
know  not  what  we  are  doing  when  we  secure  a  seri- 
ous perusal  for  a  good  book.  We  may  be  putting 
springs  in  motion  that  will  never  cease  acting  for 
good.    Perhaps  the  "Voyage  of  the  Duff"  was  sent  to 


NOAH'S  CARPENTERS.  425 

that  little  Pennsylvania  settlement  by  some  pious  man. 
If  so,  and  had  he  never  done  any  thing  else,  would  he 
have  lived  in  vain?  If  those  two  missionary  sons 
had  never  done  any  thing  else  than  distribute  relig- 
ious tracts  and  books  upon  the  sides  of  the  Himala- 
yas, or  among  the  millions  of  China,  would  they  have 
lived  in  vain? 

3.  It  teaches  us  what  fruits  we  may  expect  from 
parental  fidelity.  None  can  tell  how  many  holy 
ministers,  devoted  missionaries,  or  self-denying  mem- 
bers of  the  church  we  owe,  under  God,  to  parental 
consecration  from  the  hour  of  their  birth.  Let  every 
parent  that  reads  this  article  conseicrate  anew  their 
children  to  God ;  and  although  they  may  not  become 
lights  on  high  to  guide  the  movements  of  the  church, 
they  may  become  centres  of  influence  in  the  circles  in 
which  they  are  to  move ;  and  if  they  can  do  no  more, 
they  may  at  least  distribute  a  good  book  or  tract. 

N.  M. 


NOAH'S  CARPENTERS. 

It  was  a  late  hour  at  night.     The  city  of  N 

with  its  many  turrets  and  spires  was  sleeping  under 
the  shadow  of  those  rocky  sentinels  which  have 
guarded  the  plain  since  the  flood.  The  waves  of  the 
ocean  fell  gently  and  soothingly  on  the  beach.  The 
moon  waded  through  the  fleecy  autumn  clouds,  now 
playing  with  the  waters  and  lighting  up  the  scene, 
and  then  concealing  her  glory  as  if  to  make  its  reve- 
lations more  prized.  It  was  a  night  for  pious  thought 
and  conversation. 


426  SKETCHES  FROM   LIFE. 

Two  persons  were  leaving  the  city  and  passing 
along  the  water-side  to  a  beautiful  villa,  where  one 
was  a  resident  and  the  other  a  guest.  The  taller  and 
elder  of  the  two  was  actively  engaged  in  a  work  of 
benevolence,  in  the  blessings  of  which  the  people  of 

N and  the  students  of  college  mutually 

shared.  The  work  was  "  too  heavy  "  for  him,  and  he 
had  invited  his  young  friend,  an  impenitent  lad,  of 
whom  we  will  speak  as  Henry,  to  aid  him.  Together 
they  had  spent  many  a  weary  day  in  supplying  the 
Christian  laborers  who  cooperated  with  them,  with 
the  choicest  means  of  usefulness,  as  they  crowded  the 
depository  of  truth.  Exhausted  by  their  toils,  they 
were  now  returning  for  a  night's  repose.  Hitherto 
not  a  vv^ord  had  been  addressed  to  the  obliging  lad 
about  his  soul.  The  fitting  occasion  seemed  to  have 
arrived.     A  quaint,  but  fitting  manner  was  chosen. 

"  Henry,"  asked  the  elder  of  the  younger,  "  do  you 
know  what  became  of  JYoah^s  carpenters  V 

"Noah's  carpenters!"  exclaimed  Henry  ;  "I  didn't 
know  that  Noah  had  any  carpenters." 

"  Certainly  he  must  have  had  help  in  building  one 
of  the  largest  and  best-proportioned  ships  ever  put  on 
the  stocks.  There  must  have  been  many  ship-carpen- 
ters at  work  for  a  long  time,  to  have  constructed  such 
a  vessel  in  such  an  age.  What  became  of  them,  think 
you,  when  all  the  fountains  of  the  great  deep  were 
broken  up,  and  the  windows  of  heaven  were  opened?" 

"What  do  you  mean  by  such  a  queer  question?" 
Henry  replied. 

"  No  matter  what,  just  now.  Please  answer  the 
inquiry.  And  you  may  also  tell  me,  if  you  will,  what 
you  would  have  done  in  that  dreadful  hour,  when  the 


NOAHS  CARPENTERS.  427 

storm  came  in  its  fury,  and  Noalrs  prophecies  were 
all  fulfilled,  and  all  but  the  family  of  the  preacher  of 
righteousness  were  ready  to  be  ingulfed  in  those  black 
waters?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Henry,  in  a  half-thoughtful, 
half-trifling  manner ;  "  but  I  think  I  should  have  got 
on  the  rudder." 

"  That  is  human  nature  exactly,  Henry.  It  would 
'climb  up  some  other  way,"  rather  than  enter  the  fold 
by  the  only  door.  It  would  'get  on  the  rudder,'  in 
its  pride  and  short-sightedness,  rather  than  go  into 
the  ark  of  safety.  It  would  save  itself  hj  hanging  on, 
at  the  hazard  of  being  swept  into  the  gulf  of  despair, 
instead  of  being  saved  by  the  provision  of  infinite 
love. 

"  But  I  '11  tell  you  plainly  what  I  mean,  Henry,  by 
Noah's  carpenters.  You  have  kindly  and  generously 
given  me  your  aid,  day  after  day,  in  building  an  ark' 

in  N ,  by  which  many,  I  trust,  will  be  saved.     I 

feel  grateful  for  your  help.  But  I  greatly  fear,  that 
while  others  will  be  rejoicing  in  the  fruits  of  our 
labors,  you  will  be  swept  away  in  the  storm  of  wrath 
which  will  by  and  by  beat  on  the  heads  of  those  who 
enter  not  the  ark  Christ  Jesus.  No  human  device 
will  avail  for  you.  '  Getting  on  the  rudder '  will  not 
answer  ;  you  must  be  in  Christ,  or  you  are  lost.  Re- 
member Noah's  carpenters,  and  flee  to  the  ark  with- 
out delay." 

We  reached  the  house  and  parted.  The  winter 
came.  The  lad  was  placed  at  a  boarding-school  in 
.  He  visited  his  home  during  the  winter  vaca- 
tion, and  presented  himself  to  the  church  for  admis- 
sion to  its  communion.     He  then  stated  that  the  con- 


428  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

versation  detailed  above  had  never  passed  from  liis 
memory. 

Though  Noah's  carpenters  were  all  drowned,  there 
are  a  great  many  of  the  same  stock  now  alive — those 
who  contribute  to  promote  the  spiritual  good  of  others, 
and  aid  in  the  up-building  of  the  Redeemer's  kingdom, 
but  personally  neglect  the  great  salvation. 

Sabbath-school  children  who  gather  in  the  poor,  or 
contribute  their  money  to  send  libraries  or  tracts  and 
books  to  the  West,  or  to  aid  the  work  of  missions, 
and  yet  remain  unconverted,  are  like  Noah's  carpen- 
ters. 

Teachers  in  Bible-classes  and  Sabbath- schools  who  point 
their  pupils  to  the  Lamb  of  God,  but  do  not  lead  the 
way,  are  like  guide-boards  that  tell  the  road,  but  are 
not  travellers  on  it ;  or  like  Noah's  carpenters,  who 
built  an  ark,  and  were  overwhelmed  in  the  waters 
that  bore  it  aloft  in  safety. 

Christless  parents  who  instruct  their  children  and 
servants,  as  every  parent  should,  in  the  great  doctrines 
of  the  gospel,  yet  fail  to  illustrate  these  doctrines  in 
their  lives,  and  seek  not  a  personal  interest  in  the 
blood  of  Christ,  are  like  Noali's  carpenters,  and  must 
expect  their  doom. 

Printers,  folders,  sewers,  and  binders  engaged  in  mak- 
ing Bibles  and  religious  books,  booksellers  and  haivkers, 
and  publishers  of  religious  newspapers,  who  are  doing 
much  to  increase  the  knowledge  of  the  gospel  and  to 
save  souls,  but  so  many  of  whom  are  careless  about 
their  own  salvation,  will  have  the  mortification  of 
knowing,  that  while  their  toils  have  been  instrumental 
of  spiritual  good  to  thousands,  they  were  only  like  the 
pack-mules  that  carried  a  load  to  market  without  tast- 


NOAH'S  CARPENTERS.  429 

ing  it ;  or  like  Noah's  carpenters,  who  built  a  ship 
they  never  sailed. 

Wealthy  and  liberal,  hut  unconverted  men  who  help  to 
build  cliurches  and  sustain  the  institutions  of  the  gos- 
pel, but  who  "  will  not  come  unto  Christ,  that  they 
may  have  life,"  are  hewing  the  timbers  and  driving 
the  nails  of  the  ark  they  are  too  proud  or  too  careless 
to  enter.  Perhaps  they  think  tliey  will  be  safe  on  the 
"rudder  ;"  but  they  may  find  too  late,  that  when  they 
would  ride  they  must  swim — that  when  they  would 
float  they  must  sink,  with  all  their  good  deeds,  un- 
mixed with  faith,  as  a  millstone  about  tlieir  necks. 

Moralists  who  attend  church  and  support  the  min- 
istry, but  who  do  not  receive  into  their  hearts  the  gos- 
pel they  thus  sustain,  are  like  Noah's  carpenters. 

Professed  ministers  cf  the  gospel  who  preach  the 
truth  without  practising  it,  who  commend  the  love  of 
Christ  without  experiencing  it,  who  guide  the  wander- 
ing to  the  fold  of  Christ  without  entering  it  them- 
selves— are  they  not  like  Noah's  carpenters?  If  Paul 
might  indulge  the  apprehension  lest,  when  he  had 
"preached  to  others,"  he  should  himself  "be  a  cast- 
away," may  not  those  of  us  who  follow  at  a  sad  dis- 
tance from  Paul  in  the  Christian  race,  well  see  to  it 
that  we  are  not  left  to  buffet  the  waves  of  an  over- 
whelmed world,  when  some  of  those  we  have  led  into 
the  ark  are  borne  triumphantly  above  the  billows  in 
wliich  we  are  ingulfed  ? 

Perhaps  the  Christian  reader  will  be  encouraged 
by  this  narrative  to  speak  a  word  in  season  to  some 
of  these  ark-builders.  They  are  numerous.  Their 
kindness  should  be  acknowledged.  "These  things 
ought  they  to  have  done."     The  danger  is,  that  the 


430  SKETCHES   FROM   LIFE. 

great  thing  -will  be  '"left  undone.''  "Run,  speak  to 
tliat  young  man."  Tell  liim  that  the  storm  of  wrath 
will  come.  •  Tell  him  that  "getting  on  tlie  rudder"  of 
the  ark,  and  all  otlier  human  devices  for  salvation,  are 
vain  refuges  of  lies.  Tell  liim  that  the  ark  is  open ; 
tliat  it  is  safe ;  that  it  waits  for  him.  The  dove  and 
the  olive-branch  are  in  this  ark.  The  bow  of  mercy 
spans  the  heavens  above  it.  Peace  and  hope  and  sal- 
vation are  there.  But,  if  scorned  or  neglected,  when 
once  the  door  is  shut,  they  only  that  are  "  in  the  ark  " 
will  "remain  alive."  Who  can  abide  that  storm? 
Who  can  buffet  those  waves?  Who  will  survive  that 
deluge  ?  Ileber. 


MY   FIRST   INQUIRY  MEETING. 

One  man  soweth,  and  another  reapeth.  The  town 
in  whicli  it  was  my  privilege  to  commence  my  minis- 
terial labors,  had  enjoyed  much  valuable  preaching. 
The  people  regularly  attended  public  worship,  but  no 
additions  had  for  a  long  time  been  made  to  the  church, 
which  now  consisted  of  only  about  twenty-five  mem- 
bers. In  some  families,  as  many  as  five  or  six  sons 
and  daughters,  from  sixteen  to  twenty-six,  were  living 
at  home,  all  in  an  unconverted  state,  and  the  father  and 
mother,  in  several  cases,  were  in  the  same  condition. 

I  had  held  the  usual  meetings  on  the  Sabbath,  and 
on  Thursday  evening  what  was  called  a  conference- 
meeting  Avas  held  in  one  part  of  the  town,  at  the 

house  of  Dr.  M .     The  parable  of  the  prodigal 

son  was  read,  and  remarks  and  prayers  offered  by 
myself  and  others.  In  the  course  of  the  meeting,  sev- 
eral appeared  considerably  affected. 


THE  UNWELCOME  SHOWER.  431 

"I  perceive,"'  said  I,  ''that  a  number  present  arc 
awakened  to  a  view  of  their  condition  as  unpardoned 
sinners.  I  am  well  aware,  that  persons  who  arc  in- 
quiring what  they  shall  do  to  be  saved,  may  be  great- 
ly benefited  by  personal  conversation  with  Christians. 
For  such  a  purpose,  it  is  proposed  that  such  persons 
remain  on  their  seats  when  the  meeting  shall  be  closed, 
and  interviews  will  be  had  with  them." 

Eight  stayed  where  they  were.  They  were  re- 
spectfully approached  and  conversed  with,  to  their 
benefit,  and  to  that  of  those  who  undertook  to  direct 
their  inquiring  minds.  The  results  were  so  profitable, 
that  the  practice  continued  through  the  winter,  and  tlic 
next  summer  that  church  consisted  of  about  four  times 
as  many  members  as  when  the  work  began.  Several 
of  the  young  men  who  then  made  a  profession,  be- 
came useful  ministers  in  different  states  of  the  Union. 
We  had  then  never  heard  of  such  meetings;  but  the 
voice  of  Providence  seemed  to  direct  us  to  a  course 
which,  with  various  modifications,  has  been  blessed  in 
other  places.  w.  d. 

THE   UNWELCOME  SHOWER. 

In  the  year  1842,  I  was  invited  to  assist  a  minis- 
tering brother  on  a  communion  occasion,  at  a  country 

church  in  the  county  of ,  Georgia.    As  the  house 

of  worship  could  not  contain  the  vast  multitudes  as- 
sembling on  such  occasions,  the  people  had  prepared 
an  extensive  bush-arbor,  with  temporary  pulpit  and 
seats  for  the  accommodation  of  preachers  and  liearers. 

The  congregation  was  very  large,  and  the  services 
commenced  lindcr  favorable  auspices.     I  selected  the 


432  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

text,  "  God  is  love,"  1  John  4  : 8,  and  after  the  intro- 
duetory  remarks,  liad  proceeded  in  my  discourse  about 
ten  or  fifteen  minutes,  when  the  heavens,  which  had 
been  for  a  few  moments  gathering  blackness,  poured 
out  upon  us  torrents  of  rain.  The  services,  in  which 
tlic  people  were  beginning  to  take  a  very  lively  inter- 
est, were  almost  instantaneously  closed,  and  the  peo- 
ple rushed  for  the  church  and  for  tlie  bodies  of  large 
trees  and  into  carriages,  and  wherever  they  could  find 
shelter.  All  was  confusion.  The  sermon  could  not 
be  preached,  neither  could  the  Lord's  supper  be  cele- 
brated. 

After  an  hour,  or  an  hour  and  a  half,  the  rain 
abating,  the  people  manifested  the  deepest  anxiety  to 
hear  the  discourse  so  suddenly  interrupted.  They 
even  went  to  work  to  beat  the  dripping  boughs  of  the 
wet  arbor,  to  see  if  the  place  could  be  made  comfort- 
able, so  that  the  congregation  and  the  preachers  could 
reassemble  and  go  tlu'ough  with  the  service.  But  this 
was  impossible,  the  seats  were  too  wet ;  we  could 
not  proceed.  I  endeavored,  however,  to  satisfy  the 
people  in  some  measure,  by  promising  to  return,  if  the 
Lord  should  permit,  at  some  future  day,  and  preach 
that  sermon. 

A  year  rolled  around,  and  the  people  of  that  con- 
gregation resolved  that  they  would  build  tents  and 
a  substantial  framed  and  shingled  arbor,  so  that  they 
could  hold  regular  camp-meetings,  and  be  uninter- 
rupted in  case  of  rain.  This  was  in  the  year  1843,  a 
year  memorable  for  revivals  of  religion  in  portions  of 
Georgia  and  Florida. 

In  October  of  that  year,  the  first  camp-meeting 
was  held  at  Thvatira.     There  a  large  congregation 


THE   UNWELCOME  SHOWER.  4?,?, 

and  several  ministers  assembled  from  different  and 
distant  counties,  to  give  themselves  up  to  the  uninter- 
rupted, delightful  service  of  God  for  several  days  to- 
gether. There,  under  the  new  and  rain-proof  arbor, 
Avhich  cost  about  $500, 1  redeemed  my  pledge  in  refer- 
ence to  the  broken  sermon ;  and  there  I  heard  other 
brethren  preach  in  the  demonstration  of  the  Spirit, 
and  with  power.  There  I  witnessed  the  glorious  dis- 
plays of  the  power  of  sovereign  grace  in  the  conver- 
sion of  sinners,  and  in  the  quickening  of  God's  peo- 
])le.  There,  at  that  meeting,  after  having  prayed  and 
agonized  for  years  and  years  foi;  my  son,  my  first-born, 
I  had  the  happiness  to  see  that  son — then  in  college, 
and  now  in  the  ministry — slain  by  the  law  and  made 
alive  in  Jesus  Christ,  as  we  fondly  hope.  There  I 
saw  scores  and  scores  of  stout-hearted  young  men  and 
young  \romen  cut  down  by  the  arrows  of  conviction, 
and  there  niade  to  rejoice  in  hope  of  pardoning  mer- 
cy. It  was  a  season  never  to  be  forgotten  by  those 
who  were  present. 

Eight  additional  camp-meetings  have  been  held 
since  that  time  upon  that  consecrated  spot,  the  last  of 
which  has  just  closed  ;  and  never  has  there  been  one 
at  which  ministers  and  Christians  have  labored  and  • 
prayed  in  vain.  Every  time  we  have  assembled  in 
that  native  forest,  and  worshipped  under  that  water- 
proof arbor,  erected,  as  the  people  say,  and  as  I  be- 
lieve, in  consequence  of  that  unwelcome  shower,  God 
has  met  us  by  his  Spirit  and  poured  out  showers  of 
melting  mercy  and  renewing  grace  upon  the  people. 
As  there  is  joy  in  heaven  over  every  repenting  sinner, 
angels  must  make  annual  visits  to  that  favored  spot. 
How  wonderful,  how  mysterious  are  the  ways  of  the 

Sk^tchei.  1 9 


434  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

Almighty.  IIow  many  will  look  back  in  eternity 
from  the  heights  of  glory  to  that  place  in  the  wild 
woods  of  Georgia,  as  the  place  of  their  second  birth, 
as  God's  house  and  the  gate  of  heaven  to  their  souls. 

N.  H. 


THE   HAYMOW. 

My  first  settlement  in  the  ministry  was  in  a  valley 
in  one  of  the  middle  states,  beautiful  beyond  descrip- 
tion. A  broad  and  winding  river  enters  it  at  the 
north,  between  two  high  rocky  peaks,  which  bear  the 
evidence  of  being  torn  from  each  other's  embrace  by 
some  dread  concussion  of  nature ;  and  after  a  course 
of  fifteen  miles,  takes  its  exit  at  the  south,  and  through 
a  gap  probably  made  in  the  same  way.  On  either 
side  of  this  river  the  bottom-lands  are  exceedingly 
rich.  Ag  you  leave  the  river,  these  lands  gradually 
undulate,  until,  at  the  distance  of  about  two  miles, 
they  rise  into  mountains  on  the  east  and  west,  which 
seem  built  of  heaven  to  guard  the  quiet  vale  from  all 
disturbing  intrusions.  As  the  traveller  reaches  the 
brow  of  the  eastern  mountain,  a  scene  of  surpassing 
loveliness  spreads  itself  beneath  him;  and  he  feels 
that  if  peace  has  not  utterly  forsaken  our  world,  its 
residence  must  be  there.  The  valley  seems  as  if  ex- 
pressly made  for  the  home  of  the  Indian ;  and  for 
moons  beyond  the  power  of  his  arithmetic  to  calcu- 
late, the  red  man  fished  in  that  river,  and  planted  his 
corn  in  that  rich  bottom,  and  sought  his  game  upon 
the  mountains.  And  before  he  could  be  compelled  to 
yield  it,  he  made  the  white  man  feel  the  power  of  his 
anger  in  many  a  dreadful  surprise. 


THE  HAYMOW.  435 

But  sin,  and  in  its  very  worst  forms,  found  an  en^ 
trance  into  this  beautiful  spot.  Early  in  the  history 
of  the  settlement  a  church  was  collected  there,  which 
continued  a  feeble  existence  until  18 — ,  when  I  be- 
came its  pastor.  Young,  ardent,  and  without  experi- 
ence, I  liere  commenced  my  ministry  in  a  community 
proverbial  both  for  its  intelligence  and  its  disregard 
of  religion,  amid  external  opposition,  and  with  a 
church  small,  and  rent  by  internal  discords.  A  more 
unpromising  field  none  could  desire. 

I  entered  on  my  duties  with  zeal,  and  was  diligent 
in  their  performance.  I  prepared  my  sermons  with 
care,  and  thought  them  conclusive ;  but  few  heard  them, 
and  non€  seemed  convinced  by  them.  I  felt  deeply 
myself,  but  my  hearers  semed  unmoved.  Months  thus 
passed  away  witliout,  to  my  knowledge,  a  religious 
impression  being  made  on  any  mind  ;  and  feeling  that 
I  labored  in  vain,  and  spent  my  strength  for  naught, 
I  was  about  giving  up  in  despair.  My  preaching 
seemed  more  to  excite  the  opposition  of  the  wicked, 
than  the  prayers  of  the  pious. 

There  was  among  my  people  a  man  in  mid-life,  a 
German  by  birth,  and  a  remarkably  simple-hearted, 
pure-minded  Christian.  Whoever  was. absent,  he  was 
always  present  at  the  place  of  prayer.  One  evening 
early  in  December,  as  I  was  about  retiring  to  rest,  I 
heard  a  knock  at  ray  door,  and  my  German  friend 
was  introduced,  his  countenance  full  of  emotion.  On 
taking  his  seat',  his  first  words  were  these :  '!  My  dear 
pastor,  I  have  corae  to  tell  you  that  the  Lord  is  about 
to  revive  his  work  here."  Surprised  at  His  appear- 
ance and  language,  and  at  the  lateness  of.  his  visit,  I 
asked  him,  "Why  do  you  think  so?"     He  replied  as 


436  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

follows :  "  About  eight  o'clock  this  evening,  I  went 
up  to  my  haymow  to  giye  hay  to  my  cattle  ;  and 
while  there  the  Spirit  of  God  came  upon  me,  and  has 
kept  me  there  praying  until  now.  I  feel  that  God  is 
about  to  revive  his  work,  and  I  could  not  go  in  to 
my  family  until  I  told  you."  The  entire  simplicity 
and  earnestness  of  the  good  man  convinced  me  that 
God  had  vouchsafed  to  visit  his  servant.  After  some 
conversation  we  parted,  mutually  agreeing  to  pray 
and  labor  for  a  revival  of  religion,  and  to  engage  as 
many  as  we  could  to  do  the  same. 

Every  meeting  for  religious  services  was  now  to 
me  one  of  intense  interest.  A  few  days  convinced 
me  that  the  spirit  of  prayer  was  on  the  increase. 
Meetings  for  prayer  were  numerously  attended.  The 
church  on  the  Sabbath  became  more  full  and  solemn. 
And  a  few  weeks  after  that  evening  of  wrestling  with 
God  on  the  haymow,  found  me  in  the  midst  of  the 
first  revival  of  my  ministry,  and  one  of  the  most  pre- 
cious I  ever  witnessed. 

Permit  me  to  narrate  a  few  incidents  which  oc- 
curred during  the  progress  of  this  revival,  and  which 
illustrate  some  great  truths  that  should  not  be  for- 
gotten. 

Among  the  first  that  expressed  seriousness,  was  a 
fashionable  and  well-educated  young  lady,  belonging 
to  one  of  our  richest  families.  She  was  the  pride  of 
a  mother  whose  ambition  it  was  to  have  her  shine  in 

elegant  society.      Miss  E expressed  a  hope  in 

Christ.  In  a  few.  days  she  was  sent  to  spend  the 
winter  in  one  of  our  principal  cities,  with  some  gay 
friends,  who  were  directed  to  take  her  to  all  the  fash- 
ionable amusements.     She  yielded  to  the  temptation ; 


THE  HAYMOW.  43T 

and  when  she  returned  in  the  spring  seemed  farther 
from  the  kingdom  of  heaven  than  ever.  Another  re- 
freshing was  soon  enjoyed,  when  the  former  feelings 
of  this  young  lady  returned ;  she  became  hopefully 
pious — and  in  a  few  months  the  wife  of  a  godly  min- 
ister. And  her  large  family,  perhaps  influenced  by 
her  example,  followed  her  into  the  fold  of  Christ. 

There  was  in  the  place  a  young  man,  a  profane, 
but  yet  an  industrious  mechanic.  Like  Nicodemus, 
he  came  to  me  by  night  to  know  what  he  should  do 
to  be  saved.  His  feelings  seemed  of  the  most  pun- 
gent character,  and  his  visits  were  often  repeated. 
He  tliought  he  understood  and  could  joyfully  embrace 
the  plan  of  salvation  through  Jesus  Christ.  Yielding 
to  the  influence  of  one  wicked  companion,  in  a  few 
weeks  he  forsook  the  house  of  prayer  and  the  people 
of  God.  As  long  as  I  knew  him  afterwards  he  was 
among  the  most  obdurate  men  I  ever  knew.  He 
ripened  for  ruin ;  and  not  long  ago,  with  one  stroke, 
as  the  woodman  removes  the  saplings  out  of  his  way, 
God  cut  him  down.  It  is  a  fearful  thing  to  quench 
the  Spirit ! 

Mr.  C was  a  pleasant,  moral,  and  interesting 

man.  Under  the  prayers  and  conversations  of  a  pious 
mother,  he  grew  up  a  friend  to  the  institutions  of  re- 
ligion. His  mind  became  deeply  interested.  But  a 
more  convenient  season  was  always  an  excuse  for  the 
putting  aside  of  present  duty.  In  the  midst  of  the 
revival,  when  some  of  the  sturdy  cedars  of  Lebanon 
were  bowing,  his  aged  mother,  and  with  tears,  be- 
sought him  to  make  God  his  portion.  "  Mother," 
said  he,  "you  are  dependent  upon  me  for  a  subsist- 
ence, and  so  are  my  motherless  children.    To  provide 


438  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

for  you  all  is  my  pleasure  and  my  duty.  I  am  no"w 
engaged  in  a  very  profitable  work  among  the  moun- 
tains, and  when  I  have  made  enough  to  support  you 
all  comfortably,  in  connection  with  my  own  industry, 
I  promise  you  I  will  attend  to  religion.  But  you 
must  excuse  me  now."  And  with  a  solemn  warning 
against  the  folly  of  such  reasoning  from  the  lips  of 
his  aged  mother,  he  hastened  to  his  business  among 
th<3  mountains.  On  the  evening-of  the  third  day  from 
his  departure,  he  was  brought  back  to  that  mother, 
and  was  laid  at  her  feet  a  mutilated  corpse.  Before 
he  could  escape  its  track,  a  log  of  timber  rolling  down 
a  steep  precipice,  caught  him,  and  rolling  over,  almost 
ground  him  to  powder.  And  as  we  laid  him  down  in 
the  grave,  I  heard  that  mother  exclaim,  in  the  bitter- 
ness of  her  sorrow,  "  Would  to  God  I  had  died  for 
thee,  my  son,  my  son!"  0,  the  folly  of  boasting  of 
to-morrow,  as  we  know  not  what  a  day  may  bring 
forth. 

Some  of  our  pious  people  undertook  the  circula- 
tion of  religious  tracts.  The  tract,  "  The  "Way  to  be 
Saved,"  was  selected  for  the  purpose  of  placing  in 
the  hands  of  our  people  a  plain  and  simple  guide  to 
the  Saviour  of  sinners.  One  of  these  was  placed  in 
the  shop  of  a  mechanic  who  was  noted  for  his  profan- 
ity and  vulgarity.  Blotting  out  the  word  "  saved"  in 
the  title  of  the  tract,  he  wrote  in  its  place  "  damned  ;" 
so  that  the  title  thus  amended,  read,  "  the  way  to  be 
damned."  Now  tearing  it  nearly  in  two,  he  flung  it 
into  the  street.  It  was  soon  picked  up  by  a  young 
woman  deeply  serious,  and  who,  although  shocked  by 
its  title,  carried  it  home.  She  read  it  with  care ;  she 
pasted  the  torn  leaves  together,  and  read  it  again  and 


»  THE  HAYMOW.  439 

again.  She  'n^ent  as  directed,  and  found  peace  and 
joy  in  believing.  And  in  a  conversation  with  her 
about  her  hope,  she  drew  from  her  bosom  this  muti- 
lated tract,  saying,  "This  is  the  little  book  that  told 
me  the  way  to  the  cross."  If  yet  alive,  I  have  no 
doubt  she  preserves  it  among  her  choicest  treasures. 
Thus  it  is  that  God  often  makes  the  wrath  of  man  to 
praise  him. 

Many  instances  like  these  occurred  during  that 
revival,  which  the  time  would  fail  me  to  enumerate. 
But  even  these  emphatically  teach  us, 

1.  That  when  faithfully  and  prayerfully  discharg- 
ing duty,  ministers  must  not  be  unduly  discouraged  by 
unpropitious  external  circumstances.  If  they  go  forth 
weeping,  bearing  precious  seed,  they  will  return  again 
with  rejoicing,  bringing  their  sheaves  with  them. 

2.  They  teach  us  the  power  of  prayer.  It  moves 
the  hand  tliat  moves  the  world.  That  revival  with 
its  consequent  blessings,  I  have  ever  traced,  under 
God,  to  that  prayer  on  the  haymow.  The  prayer  that 
God  inspires,  he  will  answer. 

3.  They  teach  us  the  awful  guilt  of  parents  who 
sacrifice  the  souls  of  their  children  at  the  shrines  of 
worldly  ambition.  And  alas,  how  many  such  parents 
there  are ! 

•4.  They  utter  warning  notes  in  the  ears  of  those 
who  quench  the  strivings  of  the  Spirit,  or  who  post- 
pone the  duty  of  submission  to  God  now  to  an  uncer- 
tain future. 

5.  They  teach  us,  that  even  pearls  cast  before 
swine,  may  not  be  in  vain.  Through  the  wickedness 
of  the  wicked,  God  is  ever  accomplishing  his  pur- 
poses of  love.    How  invincible  the  combined  agencies 


440  SKETCHES  FROM   LIFE. 

of  mercy,  when  even  one  mutilated  tract  becomes  the 
instrument  of  life  from  the  dead  to  a  human  soul. 

Years  have  passed  away  since  this  reviyal  occur- 
red. Some  of  its  subjects  have  already  entered  on 
their  reward.  That  simple-hearted,  pious  German  has 
gone  up  to  his  Saviour.  But  the  influences  of  that 
prayer  on  the  haymow  will  live  for  ever.  Good  men 
never  die.  They  rest  from  their  labors,  but  their 
works  do  follow.  May  our  churches  never  want  mem- 
bers like  him  who  wrestled  and  prevailed  with  God 
on  the  haymow.  N.  m. 


INFLUENCE   OF  TWO   YOUNG  LADIES. 

There  had  been  no  revival  in  the  church  of  A , 

for  a  long  time.  Professed  Christians  were  cold ; 
their  services  formal  and  spiritless  ;  few,  if  any,  were 
alive  to  duty.  Difficulties  multiplied.  Heart-burn- 
ings and  worldly  conformity  endangered  even  the 
existence  of  the  church.  The  Spirit  of  God  had  with- 
drawn, apparently  for  ever.  Alas,  thus  is  it  when 
the  love  of  many  waxes  cold. 

While  things  were  in  this  state  in  A ,  the  Lord 

was  blessing  a  small  church  in  a  neighboring  town. 
In  his  providence,  two  gay  and  worldly  young  ladies 

of  A passed  a  few  days  in  the  immediate  vicin' 

ity  of  this  work  of  grace.  They  found  themselves 
unexpectedly  in  the  society  of  those  who  were  enjoy- 
ing the  presence  of  the  Spirit  of  God.  At  first  their 
hearts  rose  in  opposition  to  the  work,  especially  to  its 
power  over  them.     They  were,  however,  both  soon 


INFLUENCE  OF   TWO  YOUNG   LADIES.        441 

led  to  feel  their  own  deep  sinfulness,  their  entire 
dependence  on  the  Holy  Spirit  to  renew  and  sanctify 
them,  and  to  discover  the  way  of  salvation  through 
the  Redeemer  of  men.  Great  was  the  change  they 
experienced.  They  found  Christ  infinitely,  absolutely 
precious,  and  determined  to  live  for  his  glory. 

When  they  returned  to  A ,  the  change  soon 

became  apparent,  and  produced,  as  is  usual  in  such 
cases,  much  and  varied  excitement  and  remark.  In 
their  pastor  they  found  a  true,  sympathizing  friend 
and  guide,  but  they  were  much  tried  by  the  exertions 
of  their  former  gay  companions  to  lead  them  back  to 
the  Avorld.  How  artful  were  the  plans  adopted  for 
this  end — how  persevering  the  efforts!  Scenes  of 
temptation  and  gayety  were  multiplied,  urgent  and 
repeated  invitations  given  them.  Flattery  'was  re- 
sorted to — jests  and  raillery,  sometimes  scorn,  and 
even  abusive  epithets,  oaths,  and  reproaches,  were 
employed. 

These  temptations  led  them  more  frequently  and 
importunately  to  the  mercy-seat,  and  gave  them  clear- 
er views  of  the  desperate  depravity  of  the  sinner's 
heart.  They  were  aroused  to  exertion,  and  deter- 
mined, with  the  help  of  God,  to  labor  for  the  salvation 
of  souls.  They  prayed,  they  entreated,  they  warned, 
they  invited  one  and  another  to  be  reconciled  to  God. 
Many  around  them  began  to  think  of  eternal  things, 
and  not  unfrequently  they  led  several  of  their  friends 
and  companions  to  the  house  of  prayer. 

Their  labors  were  not  in  vain.     God  has  said, 

"  When  they  call  upon  me,  I  will  answer."     His  Spirit 

was  evidently  working  upon  the  hearts  of  multitudes. 

Members  of  the  church  previously  at  variance,  began 

19* 


442  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

to  weep  and  to  seek  reconciliation.  The  love  of 
Christ  constrained  them  to  be  at  peace.  The  men  of 
the  world  beheld  this  change,  and  trembled.  They 
no  longer  pointed  the  finger  of  scorn.  Some  were 
brought  to  inquire  earnestly,  "  What  shall  we  do  to 
be  saved?"  Even  the  gay  and  profane,  as  well  as 
the  cold  formalist,  were  troubled,  and  joined  in  this 
inquiry.     Things  now  wore  a  solemn  aspect  in  the 

once  careless  and  mirthful  society  of  A .     The 

hall  of  revelry  was  deserted ;  vain  amusements,  and 
even  opposition  ceased.  They  who  had  been  first  in 
scenes  of  pleasure,  were  heard  confessing  their  sins 
and  imploring  the  mercy  of  God.  Numbers  yielded 
their  hearts  to  Christ  and  rejoiced  with  exceeding 
joy.  They  were  heard  recounting  the  story  of  the 
cross,  and  entreating  their  companions  to  believe  and 
be  saved.  How  still  and  solemn  was  tlic  house  of 
God !  The  word  of  truth  fell  with  power  on  hearts 
unused  to  any  susceptibility  of  religious  emotions. 
In  the  social  district  meetings,  sobs  and  tears  were 
mingled  with  rejoicings,  and  with  the  convert's  prayer. 
This  was  the  Lord's  doing,  marvellous  to  all.  Thus 
was  he  pleased  to  strengthen  and  bless  the  feeble 
instrumentality  of  these  two  youthful  converts. 

The  spirit  of  discord  which  had  torn  asunder  an 
ancient  church  was  brought  to  an  end.  Christians 
again  loved  each  other,  and  prayed,  wept,  and  con- 
versed together,  confessing  the  presence  and  power  of 
the  Spirit  of  God. 

Multitudes  also,  who  were  dead  in  trespasses  and 
sins,  were  made  alive  unto  God.  Sinful  habits  and 
amusements  were  abandoned,  while  prayer  and  praise 
were  heard  in  almost  every  family.     Many  now  sang 


SKETCH  OP  A  REVIVAL.  44S 

"redeeming  love  ;"  and  joy,  new  joy  was  felt  in  heav- 
en— the  angels'  joy  over  repenting  sinners. 

The  church  was  no  longer  a  reproach.  That  was 
a  Sabbath  long  to  be  remembered  when,  in  an  aisle 
side  by  side  with  those  two  young  ladies,  there  united 

with  the  church  of  A one  hundred  and  forty-nine 

persons,  young  and  old,  iu  whose  conversion  it  might 
be  truly  said  they  had  abundant  reason  to  rejoice. 
"They  that  turn  many  to  righteousness  shall  shine  as 
the  stars  for  ever  and  ever."  Dan.  12  :  3.  Long  ere 
this  they  have  gone,  as  we  suppose,  to  their  rest 
above ;  but  from  generation  to  generation  such  a  work 
of  grace  is  worthy  to  be  held  by  Zion  in  delightful 
remembrance.  God  is  faithful.  He  notices  and  re- 
wards the  faithfulness  of  his  children. 

Forty  years  of  subsequent  prosperity,  benevo- 
lence, and  Christian  action  in  that  church,  are  the 
highest  testimonial  that  this  work  was  of  God.  In 
the  weakness  of  man  was  manifested  divine  power. 
The  full  happiness  and  glory  of  this  work  of  grace, 
in  which  two  young  female  converts  thus  labored,  can 
only  be  reckoned  up  when  its  aggregate  richness  shall 
be  unfolded  and  enjoyed  in  the  world  to  come.  A 
work  this  worth  living  for — dying  for,  a  thousand, 
nay,  ten  thousand  times.  s.  h. 


SKETCH  OF  A  REVIVAL. 

In  the  autumn  of  1851,  a  few  Christians  in  S 

who  felt  the  desolations  of  Zion,  and  could  plead  the 
promises  of  God,  gathered   around  their  pastor  to 


444  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

sustain  him  in  the  faithful  preaching  of  the  gospel. 
They  pledged  to  him  their  fervent  prayers  and  cheer- 
ful activity,  in  the  fearless  exhibition  of  the  truth. 
Then  the  tearful  eye  of  faith  was  lifted  to  Him,  "  witli 
whom  is  the  residue  of  the  Spirit." 

There  were  cases  of  the  most  pungent  conviction, 
while  the  surface  of  society  apparently  remained  calm 
and  unmoved.  When  indications  of  anxiety  appeared 
among  the  impenitent,  the  troubled  sinner  was  made 
the  subject  of  prayer  and  effort  till  led  to  the  cross  of 
Christ.  Soon  the  subduing  breath  of  the  Almighty 
began  to  fall  upon  the  public  assembly. 
•  With  the  tokens  of  God's  presence  to  encourage 
faith,  the  brethren  who  loved  the  souls  of  men  went 
forth  to  visit  every  dwelling  within  the  bounds  of  the 
congregation.  They  returned  with  kindled  zeal,  and 
additional  evidence  that  the  Lord  is  often  working 
when  a  small  remnant  only  expect  his  appearing. 
Days  of  fasting  and  prayer  followed,  and  verily  God 
filled  his  temple,  while  his  backslidden  people  wept  in 
the  dust  before  him.  The  meetings  were  still  and 
solemn.  One  evening  after  the  sermon,  a  number  of 
young  persons  rose  and  desired  the  prayers  of  the 
saints ;  and  in  a  brief  period,  they  were  rejoicing  in 
hope. 

The  godly  women,  with  appropriate  tracts,  entered 
the  homes  of  the  poor,  and  ministered  to  the  wants  of 
soul  and  body.  Each  week  brought  new  manifesta- 
tions of  divine  grace. 

At  length  there  seemed  a  pause  in  the  gracious 
movement,  and  as  with  an  index-finger,  God  directed 
the  attention  of  his  people  to  bitter  alienations  of 
feeling  of  long  standing  between  them  and  a  sister 


SKETCH  OF  A  REVIVAL.  445 

church,  and  also  between  "them  and  a  former  pastor. 
The  Lord  hath  gone  out  before  them,  and  words  could 
not  convey  a  full  impression  of  the  intense  and  joyful 
excitement,  when,  in  the  great  assembly,  the  tears  of 
reconciliation  fell  like  rain,  and  the  extended  hand 
was  the  signal  of  a  rapturous  reunion.  After  the 
rush  of  Christian  sympathy  had  passed,  the  manifesta- 
tions of  sovereign  grace  were  renewed  with  augmented 
power,  until  more  than  sixty  cherished  the  hope  of 
pardon. 

Never  before  did  we  witness  so  palpably  the  Spirit 
attending  the  use  of  means.  The  impenitent  were 
invited  to  the  pastor's  study,  and  to  remain  for  prayer 
and  personal  conversation,  at  the  close  of  public  ser- 
vice. Others  were  visited  at  home,  and  emphatically 
"pulled  out  of  the  fire,"  by  the  earnest  and  believing 
efforts  of  the  people  of  God.  Not  a  few  who  paused 
in  the  house  of  God  till  Christians  could  reach  them, 
were  smitten  down,  and  hopefully  made  the  surrender 
of  the  soul  to  Christ. 

We  recollect  a  stranger,  a  young  lady,  who,  lin- 
gering, was  addressed  with  the  question,  "  Will  you 
give  yourself  penitently  to  Christ  now  T'  She  hesi- 
tated, suppressed  her  emotion,  trembled,  then  said, 
weeping,  "I  fear,  if  I  do  not  to-night,  I  never  shall." 
She  sunk  on  her  knees,  and  we  believe,  into  the  arms 
of  Christ. 

One  Sabbath  morning,  the  pastor  was  summoned 
to  the  house  of  a  man  who  had  opposed  the  work  of 
God.  And  Oh,  the  anguish,  as  a  sense  of  merited 
condemnation  rolled  down  upon  the  soul.  "I  am 
lost ;  God  will  never  accept  me,"  were  some  of  the 
expressions  of  remorse,  and  conviction  of  sin. 


( 

446  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

To  encourage  God's  people,  we  notice  a  few  im- 
pressive facts  illustrated  in  this  revival. 

1.  God  hears  prayer,  not  according  to  numbers,  but 
tiie  measure  of  faith.  In  this  way  he  comes  when 
apparently  the  whole  church  is  asleep. 

2.  That  instead  of  waiting  till  difficulties  are 
healed,  for  a  season  of  refreshing,  the  Mnw^wa/ presence 
of  the  Holy  Ghost,  in  answer  to  supplication,  effec- 
tually secures  this  glorious  result. 

3.  That  while  the  Spirit  works  Avith  humble  be- 
lieving Christians,  he,  like  the  wind,  bloweth  where 
he  listeth.  He  subdues  hearts  which  seemed  most 
unlikely  to  yield,  and  sometimes  leaves  to  their  rebel- 
lion the  most  hopeful  ones. 

4.  That  God  will  bless  appropriate  effort  for  the 
conversion  of  men.  This  he  has  promised.  How 
criminal,  then,  the  worldliness  and  infidelity  of  those 
upon  whom  are  the  vows  of  God.  How  great  the 
guilt  and  peril  of  the  self-hardened  sinner,  for  whom 
so  much  is  done  by  Jehovah.  p.  c.  h. 


TIIE  ELDERS'   PRAYER-MEETING. 

A  young  minister  in  an  inland  village  in  the  state 
of  New  York  was  made  happy  in  the  addition  of 
thirty-five  converts  to  his  flock.  That  day  in  which, 
for  the  first  time,  at  the  table  of  our  Lord,  they  sol- 
emnly commemorated  his  death,  was  an  occasion  for 
melting  of  hearts,  and  the  Saviour's  broken  body  was 
seen  by  many  in  an  applying  faith.  Some  can  never 
forget  that  day  :  with  the  new  disciple  of  gray  hairs, 
were  those  of  tender  years — a   strange  garland  of 


THE  ELDERS'  PRAYER-MEETING.  44T 

God's  grace,  the  fresh  opening  buds,  and  the  almost 
withering  flowers. 

What  was  singular,  this  gathering  of  new-born 
spirits  was  entirely  from  the  outskirts  of  the  pastor's 
field.  Those  who  came  fartliest  to  hear  the  word, 
embraced  the  truth :  the  yillagers  under  the  very- 
sound  of  the  sanctuary,  and  in  the  centre  of  all  this 
outpouring  of  divine  love,  were  alarmingly  indiffer- 
ent. The  dew  of  saving  mercy  had  descended  upon 
the  surrounding  mountains  and  the  lower  part  of  the 
valley,  completely  encircling  with  a  halo  of  glory  that 
part  where  stood  the  village  with  its  church ;  but 
while  all  around  were  thus  refreshed  with  God's  dew, 
that  little  group  of  dwellings,  like  Gideon's  fleece, 
was  very  dry.  The  meetings  for  prayer  in  the  out- 
skirts were  well  attended  by  all  classes,  but  in  the 
village,  all  except  a  few  church-members,  stood  aloof. 
The  pastor  saw  and  felt  it. 

One  Sabbath  morning,  entering  the  sanctuary  with 
a  heavy  heart,  he  requested  one  of  the  elders  to  in- 
form the  consistory  in  a  private  way,  that  the  pastor 
wished  to  see  them.  The  elders  met  their  minister  at 
his  house.  He  reminded  them  what  great  things  God 
had  done  in  the  outskirts  of  the  congregation ;  but 
that  the  central  part  seemed  entirely  passed  by,  and 
Satan  kept  possession  like  a  strong  man  armed.  He 
spoke  of  his  love  to  the  interesting  young  men  run- 
ning fast  their  career  of  danger ;  nor  did  he  think  it 
could  be  true  of  his  elders,  that  "no  man  cared  for 
their  souls."  He  unbosomed  his  deep  solicitude,  lest 
the  harvest  should  be  ended,  and  they  not  saved.  He 
mentioned  his  closet-wrestlings  with  God,  day  upon 
day,  and  week  upon  week,  to  send  his  saving  power 


448  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

among  them,  and  his  faith  that  God  would  do  it. 
He  then  reminded  them  of  their  high  responsibilities 
to  God  and  his  church,  as  fathers  in  Israel ;  and  he 
implored  them  to  see  how  it  stood  in  their  hearts,  and 
to  beseech  God  to  take  away  every  hinderance,  and  to 
quicken  them  with  renewed  life. 

A  solemn  silence  followed;  and  with  swelling 
hearts,  as  a  suitable  prayer,  they  sung  the  hymn, 

"  Come,  Holy  Spirit,  beavcnly  Dove, 
With  all  thy  quickening  powers, 
Kindle  a  flame  of  sacred  love 
In  these  cold  hearts  of  om-s." 

,  The  pastor  knelt  with  his  beloved  elders,  and  in 
prayer  commended  them  to  God,  imploring  him  of  his 
mercy  to  give  them  such  direction  and  strength  as 
should  make  them  efficient  in  the  church  of  his  Son  ; 
and  before  rising  from  their  knees,  each  one  of  the 
four  ciders  prayed  also. 

Their  prayers  were  remarkably  short — the  burden 
being  sincere  confession  of  remissness,  and  supplica- 
tion for  pardon  and  grace ;  after  which  they  closed 
with  earnest  entreaty  that  God's  mercy  might  not  be 
kept  from  the  village.  One  of  them  in  a  few  words 
addressed  his  brethren,  in  which  he  expressed  himself 
as  grieved  at  his  own  omissions  of  duty ;  he  spoke  of 
the  new  sense  he  entertained  of  his  responsibility,  of 
his  hopes  that  God  would  forgive  his  remissness,  and 
also  his  belief  that  the  Saviour  was  about  to  be  mani- 
fested among  them.  Each  elder  followed  in  a  similar 
strain  of  contrition  and  hope. 

The  pastor  reviewed  what  they  had  done,  and 
spoke  of  it  as  a  scene  over  which  the  angels  of  God 
might  rejoice.     lie  reminded  them  that  this  Avas  in 


THE  ELDERS'  PRAYER-MEETING.  449 

effect  a  solemn  covenant,  and  that  they  were  now 
about  to  resume  their  duties  in  the  church  under  a 
fuller  sense  of  their  obligations. 

That  Lord's-day  evening  the  minister  preached 
with  much  of  God's  presence.  The  fathers  in  the 
church  were  found  having  more  of  the  spirit  and  the 
gift  of  prayer.  And  still  the  secret  of  the  Lord  was 
with  them  that  feared  him ;  for  no  one  knew  what 
had  taken  place,  but  every  one  said  that  things  seem- 
ed unusually  solemn.  That  very  evening  sinners 
were  found  troubled  at  heart,  and  Christians  were 
returning  to  their  first  love.  The  pastor  and  elders 
had  borne  with  them  from  their  little  meeting  an 
increased  portion  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  The  world 
knew  it  not — "for  the  kingdom  of  God  came  not 
with  observation."  The  pastor  almost  felt  the  words 
verified,  "  It  shall  come  to  pass,  that  before  they  call, 
I  will  answer ;  and  while  they  are  yet  speaking,  I 
will  hear."  Isa.  65  :  24.  The  village  was  now  the 
scene  of  God's  mercy.  The  young  were  its  trophies, 
and  among  them  some  of  the  very  wildest  young  men 
in  the  place.  Men  looked  on  and  wondered,  the  work 
seemed  so  great,  and  yet  all  was  so  quiet  and  so  solemn. 
Oh,  it  was  the  Saviour's  powerful  love,  and  that  in 
answer  to  his  people's  prayers. 

Upon  communion-day,  twenty  new  disciples  took 
their  places  at  that  holy  feast  of  remembrance.  And 
some  months  afterwards  others  were  gathered  into 
the  church;  so  that  more  than  thirty  souls  dated  at 
that  season  God's  gracious  work  upon  them. 

Now  look  at  some  of  the  facts  here  presented. 

1.  The  minister /e//  deeply  for  souls. 

2.  The  officers  in  the  church  caught  his  spirit; 


450  SKETCHES   FROM  LIFE. 

they  awoke  to  new  views  of  duty ;  tliey  repented 
tlieir  remissness ;  tliey  prayed  God  for  help,  and  in 
that  help  resolved  to  labor  for  the  church. 

3.  God  answered  their  prayers. 

Growing  out  of  these  facts  are  some  weighty  re- 
flections. 

1.  The  pastor  may  best  in  privacy  stir  up  his  offi- 
cers when  remiss.     Heb.  10  :  24. 

2.  Prayer  is  power.   Psalm  106  :  23  ;  James  5  :  16. 

3.  God  will  answer  prayer.  Psalm  99  :  6  ;  Matt. 
21:22. 

4.  The  church  must  go  to  God  to  prepare  her  for 
the  blessing.     Isaiah  58  :  9. 

And  now,  brethren,  lay  and  clergy,  "all  these 
things  happened  unto  them  for  examples ;  and  they 
are  written  for  our  admonition."  What  is  it  the 
church  needs,  but  such  a  visitation  through  all  her 
assemblies?  then  would  she  be  a  mighty  host,  and 
glorious  her  song  of  praise,  and  heavenly  her  spirit, 
and  liberal  her  resources  for  the  various  claims  of 
new  testament  benevolence,  overflowing  the  banks 
of  "  the  river,  the  streams  whereof  shall  make  glad 
the  city  of  our  God."  s.  l. 


THE  WICKED  NINE. 

In  the  town  of  W ,  Mass.,  a  powerful  work  of 

grace  was  several  years  ago  enjoyed.  Old  and  young, 
rich  and  poor,  the  moral  and  the  profligate,  were  sub- 
jects of  its  power.  As  is  often  the  case  in  seasons  of 
revival,  the  hostility  of  the  wicked  was  aroused,  and 
their  vituperations  poured  upon  the  praying  people  of 


THE  WICKED    NINE.  451 

God.  At  the  commencement  of  tlie  work,  7iine  young 
men  banded  together  to  oppose  the  work  of  grace. 
They  formed  a  sort  of  an  association,  having  certain 
rules  adopted  by  general  consent,  to  be  strictly  re- 
garded. They  pledged  themselves  to  attend  every 
meeting,  but  for  the  purpose  of  "making  light"  of 
religion,  and  in  whatever  way  they  could  to  wound 
the  feelings  of  Christians. 

Evening  after  evening  this  band  were  seen  to  en- 
ter the  meetings  to  execute  their  design.  But  the 
people  of  God,  whose  hearts  were  now  truly  broken 
and  contrite,  had  faith  in  the  sovereign  grace  of 
Christ,  and  earnest  were  their  cryings  at  the  mercy- 
seat.  They  set  apart  some  precious  moments  in  which 
to  offer  special  prayer  for  the  conversion  of  "the 
wicked  nine." 

One  evening  after  the  usual  exercises,  a  few  devot- 
ed Christians  repaired  to  the  study  of  their  pastor  to 
pray  for  the  subjects  of  this  narrative.  While  ear- 
nestly pleading  with  God  in  their  behalf,  a  rap  was 
heard  at  the  door.  The  pastor  hastened  thither,  and 
on  opening  the  door,  a  young  man  grasped  his  hand, 
with  the  inquiry,  "  What  must  I  do  to  be  saved  ?" 
He  was  the  ringleader  of  the  "nine."  In  deep  anguish 
of  spirit,  he  was  now  seeking  Christ.  Suffice  it  to 
say,  that  he  was  ushered  into  the  study,  to  the  sur- 
prise of  all ,  and  left  it,  as  we  could  not  but  hope,  a 
child  of  God. 

On  the  following  day  he  started  on  a  mission  to 
his  old  comrades  in  sin,  not  ashamed  to  tell  them  the 
story  of  his  conversion.  The  first  house  at  whicli  he 
called  was  the  residence  of  one  of  the  wildest  of  the 
"  nine,"  and  he  had  a  praying  mother.    As  he  entered 


452  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

abruptly,  that  anxious  mother  exclaimed,  "  I  pray  you, 
don't  come  here,  for  1  believe  Henry  is  serious  J'  "  And 
I  hope  I  have  given  my  heart  to  God,"  he  replied,  to 
the  astonishment  of  the  woman,  "and  am  come  to 
invite  Henry  to  go  with  mc  to  our  pastor's  study." 
What  blessed  moments  were  these  to  that  pious  moth- 
er. Scarcely  could  she  believe  what  she  heard.  Oh, 
the  worth  of  prayer. 

But  the  work  did  not  stop  here;  for  "praying 
breath"  is  not  "spent  in  vain."  That  whole  church 
were  not  so  intensely  moved  in  behalf  of  that  band 
of  youth  for  naught.  The  work  went  on  with  won- 
derful energy  until  the  wliole  nine  were  numbered 
among  the  happy  converts.  And  our  feeble  language 
cannot  describe  the  feelings  awakened  in  that  com- 
munity, when  the  tidings  went  abroad  "that  the  last  one 
of  the  nine  was  converted.  What  a  lesson  to  the  Chris- 
tian upon  the  triumph  of  grace  and  the  power  of 
prayer.  A  Pastor. 


INCENTIVE   TO   CHRISTIAN   LABOR. 

''The  distracted  mceting^^  was  the  name  given  by  a 
wicked  and  profane  man  to  a  series  of  religious  meet- 
ings in  a  village  not  far  from  his  residence.  He  lived 
midway  between  the  Green  mountains  of  Vermont 
and  lake  Champlain.  In  the  midst  of  beautiful  sce- 
nery and  of  religious  privileges,  he  had  grown  up  to 
mature  life  a  bold  blasphemer.  God  was  not  in  his 
thoughts  nor  on  his  lips,  save  as  his  holy  name  was 
associated  with  profanity.  He  was  a  man  whom  Chris- 
tians shunned.  Good  men  felt  that  the  less  they  had 
to  do  with  him  the  better. 


INCENTIVE  TO  CHRISTIAN  LABOR.         4r>3 

But  God  was  moving  in  the  hearts  of  his  cliildrcn. 
The  Spirit  was  shedding  down  his  influences,  "reprov- 
ing of  sin,  of  righteousness,  and  of  judgment."  The 
place  of  prayer  was  a  ''  Bochim."  After  solemn 
deliberation,  the  church  resolved  to  district  the  whole 
town,  giving  to  certain  members,  male  and  female,  a 
distinct  field  of  labor.  Every  family  was  to  be  visited, 
and  every  accessible  individual  to  be  conversed  with 
on  the  subject  of  personal  religion.  Among  these 
membei:s  was  a  plain  man,  who  had  mingled  but  little 
with  the  world,  and  who,  like  Moses,  was  "slow  of 
speech,  and  of  a  slow  tongue."  Strange  to  say,  it  fell 
to  him,  in  the  providence  of  God,  to  visit  the  neigh- 
borhood where  this  re^er  dwelt. 

His  heart  almost  died  within  him  at  thought  of  it. 
What  could  he  do  with  such  a  man?  Every  advance 
of  his  would  be  met  with  ridicule. .  All  his  arguments 
would  be  turned  to  his  own  discomfiture.  But  the 
pressure  of  duty  could  not  be  resisted.  Conscience 
told  the  disciple  he  ought  to  go.  After  much  prayer, 
with  humble  reliance  on  God  for  aid,  one  morning  he 
went  forth  for  the  dreaded  interview.  With  trembling 
he  approached  his  neighbor's  dwelling,  stood  at  the 
door  and  rapped  for  admittance.  He  was  informed 
that  the  person  he  sought  was  in  a  forest  near  by,  to 
procure  fuel.  At  once  his  fears  and  doubts  returned 
in  full  force  and  strength.  It  was  suggested  to  him 
that  he  had  done  his  duty— he  had  visited  the  house, 
and  the  man  was  not  there ;  what  more  remained  for 
him  to  do?  Surely  it  was  not  for  him,  on  that  cold 
and  wintry  day,  to  go  further,  and  to  such  a  place. 
He  yielded  for  a  moment,  and  turned  his  face  home- 
ward.    No,  said  conscience,  sadly  but  sternly,  this 


454  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

will  not  do  ;  you  sliould  go  further.  You  should  sec 
the  man. 

Arrested  in  his  homeward  course,  he  retraced  his 
steps,  passed  along  the  wood-road,  and  entered  the 
forest.  Soon  the  object  of  his  search  appeared.  After 
the  usual  salutations  were  exchanged,  he  in  broten 
language  made  known  his  mission,  spoke  of  the  relig- 
ious meeting  in  progress,  and  urged  his  neighbor  to 
attend.  "  What,"  replied  the  reviler,  "  do  you  wish 
me  to  go  to  yon  distracted  meding  .?"  "  Yes,"  said  the 
other,  giving  no  heed  to  the  sneering  tone  and  scorn- 
ful words ;  "  we  are  getting  great  good  from  these 
meetings,  and  we  are  anxious  to  have  you  share  with 
us.  We  have  felt  -for  you,  we  have  prayed  for  you, 
and  as  a  friend  I  have  come  to  you  this  morning,  to 
urge  you  to  seek  the  salvation  of  your  soul." 

The  cross  once  taken  up,  timidity  vanished.  Faith- 
fully and  earnestly  was  this  man  warned  of  his  danger, 
and  entreated  to  flee  to  the  cross.  At  first  he  seemed 
to  be  taken  by  surprise,  then  to  be  rousing  himself  to 
his  old  work  of  opposition.  Soon,  however,  he  turned 
away  from  his  faithful  friend,  evidently  to  hide  his 
emotion.  At  last,  completely  overcome,  he  approach- 
ed his  visitor,  his  eyes  swimming  with  tears,  saying, 

"  Mr.  B ,  I  have  been  wondering  why  some  of  you 

Christians  did  not  come  to  see  me.  I  have  been  ex- 
pecting you.  I  am  glad  you  have  come.  I  thank  you 
for  it.  I  will  go  immediately  home,  and  attend  the 
meeting Jhis  afternoon." 

He  was  true  to  his  word,  and  from  that  day  was  a 
constant  attendant  upon  all  the  means  of  grace.  He 
bocame  a  Christian  man,  united  with  the  churcli,  and 
labored   with   liis   might   to    build   up   that  blessed 


A   DELIGHTFUL   DLSCOVERY.  455 

kingdom  against  wliicli  he  had  so  long  bittci'ly  con- 
tended. 

This  simple  narrative  furnishes  an  instructive  les- 
son to  Christians  who  shrink  from  duty  from  fear  of 
opposition.  God  is  able  to  disarm  prejudice,  remove 
hate,  and  open  the  heart.  If  any  one  will  trust  in  him, 
however  timid  he  may  be,  God  will  go  before  him, 
preparing  his  way,  giving  him  strength  and  putting 
words  into  his  mouth.  Difficulties,  real  or  imaginary, 
will  vanish,  and  he  will  probably  be  surpri-sed  at  the 
results  of  his  labor,  undertaken  in  great  weakness  and 
distrust. 

Impenftent  men  are  often  expecting  the  children 
of  the  Most  High  to  converse  with  them,  and  wonder 
they  do  not  do  it.  Let  us  never  miss  an  opportunity 
of  doing  good  in  this  way.  A  "  word  fitly  spoken  " 
may  be  instrumental  of  arresting  attention,  and  lead 
ultimately  to  the  conversion  of  a  soul.  Let  no  one 
wonder  why  we  do  not  speak  to  them  on  the  subject 
of  religion.  f.  b.  w. 


A  DELIGHTFUL  DISCOVERY. 

The  ReVi  Mr. preaching  in  his  native  town, 

in  Western  Massachusetts,  from  the  test,  "  Cast  thy 
bread  upon  the  waters,  and  thou  shalt  find  it  after 
many  days,"  stated  that  when  he  was  a  cliild,  he  had 
one  day  been  absent  from  home,  and  on  his  return,  his 
pious  mother  said  to  him,  "  There  has  been  a  strange 
occurrence  this  afternoon.  A  slip  of  paper  has  been 
found  on  the  desk,  with  these  words, '  The  Master  has 
come,  and  calleth  for  thee.' "  The  call  came  with 
power,  as  if  direct  from  heaven  to  his  heart.    lie  had 


456  SKETCHES  FROM   LIFE. 

no  rest  until  he  found  it  in  Christ.  He  engag-ed  in 
business  for  a  time,  but  his  Master's  call  grew  louder 
and  louder,  until  he  left  all  to  prepare  to  preach  the 
gospel.  Soon  after  he  commenced  preaching,  in  trav- 
elling through  the  western  valley,  he  was  suddenly 
called  to  address  a  waiting  congregation.  Trembling 
iwith  anxiety,  it  flashed  upon  his  mind  to  speak  from 
that  text,  "  The  Master  is  come,  and  calleth  for  thee.^^ 
He  did  so ;  he  was  unusually  assisted,  and  the  truth 
was  attended  with  a  power  that  the  Holy  Ghost  alone 
can  give.  There  followed  a  glorious  revival  of  re- 
ligion. 

A  lady  who  heard  that  statement  says,  "What  do 
you  think  were  my  feelings,  when  I  recollected  very 
distinctly  to  have  placed  that  slip  of  paper  on  the 
desk,  expecting  the  praying  mother  would  baptize  it 
with  her  tears  and  prayers?"  s. 


A  PLEASANT  SURPKISE. 

When  I  settled  over  the  only  Presbyterian  church 

in county,  East  Tennessee,  I  extended  my  labors 

to  the  destitute  in  various  parts  of  the  county,  taking 
a  few  Bibles  in  my  saddle-bags.  On  one  occasion, 
'after  I  had  parted  with  the  last  Bible,  a  lad  came  to 
me  and  very  modestly  asked  for  one.  I  promised  one 
to  him,  and  on  my  next  visit  supplied  him  with  the 
precious  book.  I  learned  that  he  was  an  orphan  boy, 
and  was  bound  apprentice  to  an  infidel ;  but  twelve 
or  fifteen  years  had  since  gone  by,  and  the  boy  and 
the  circumstances  had  passed  from  my  memory. 

A  few  months  ago,  my  wife  accompanied  me  to  a 


A  PLEASANT  SURPRISE.  457 

Baptist  church,  where  we  listened  to  a  fluent,  warm- 
hearted discourse  presenting  a  clear  view  of  the  way 
of  salvation  by  Christ,  near  the  close  of  which  the 
preacher  especially  urged  the  young  to  the  diligent 
reading  of  the  Scriptures. 

"  When  I  was  a  small  boy,"  said  he,  "  I  was  taken 
and  bound  apprentice  to  a  man  who  was  an  unbeliever 
in  religion,  and  would  not  furnish  his  family  with  the 
Bible.  I  went  one  day  to  preaching,  at  such  a  place. 
The  congregation  was  so  large  that  neither  the  house 
nor  the  barn  would  contain  them,  and  the  congrega- 
tion moved  into  the  orchard.  I  felt  the  force  of  the 
sermon,  my  conscience  was  awakened.  After  the 
sermon  the  preacher  was  giving  Bibles  to  a  few  poor 
people  who  had  none.  I  thought  then  was  my  time  to 
get  one.  I  went  up  and  made  my  request.  There 
was  none  left  for  me,  but  the  minister  promised  to 
furnish  me  with  one,  which  he  did  in  a  short  time.  I 
took  it  home,  and  for  fear  it  would  be  taken  from  me, 
hid  it  in  the  barn  in  a  pile  of  straw,  and  every  time  I 
went  to  the  barn  by  myself  I  would,  in  my  feeble  man- 
ner, read  a  portion  of  it.  That  book  proved  to  be 
the  means  of  my  conversion.  I  had  the  name  of  the 
minister  who  gave  it  to  me  written  in  it,  with  my  own. 
I  have  that  Bible  yet,  and  have  been  preaching  out  of 
it  for  many  years." 

You  may  imagine  my  surprise  when  he  read  my 
name  as  the  giver  of  that  Bible.  After  he  had  dis- 
missed the  assembly,  I  need  not  toll  you  of  the  pleas- 
ant greeting  we  had.  This  young  brother  is  now  one 
of  our  most  successful  preachers,  and  an  ardent  friend 
to  all  the  benevolent  institutions  of  tliis  age. 

N.  H. 

SK.„.,>S  20 


458  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 


A  YOUNG  MISSIONARY. 

It  was  many  3^ears  ago,  wrote  a  minister  in  1848, 
when  I  was  young  in  the  ministry,  that  two  little 
boys,  both  under  twelve  years  of  age,  came  among  us. 
They  were  orphan  boys,  having  neither  father  nor 
mother.  How  it  happened  that  they  came  to  our  vil- 
lage I  never  knew.  They  came  from  Boston,  and  I 
understood  that  their  father  was  a  sailor.  Two  of 
my  people,  young  farmers,  took  them  in  and  gave 
them  a  home.  The  youngest  was  a  fair,  curly-headed 
little  fellow,  with  a  countenance  as  bright  as  a  smile. 
He  declared  himself  to  be  a  Unitarian,  though  not 
ten  years  old,  and  stoutly  did  he  stand  to  it.  They 
came  into  the  Sabbath-school,  and  the  warm  hearts  of 
the  teachers,  then  young  converts,  yearned  over  them. 
After  being  with  us  a  while,  the  orphans  met  me  on 
the  steps  of  the  church  one  Sabbath  morning,  as  I  was 
going  in,  and  handed  me  a  little  paper.     The  purport 

of  the  contents  was,  "  Thomas  and  George  F have 

lost  their  grandmother,  the  only  friend  they  had  in 
the  world,  and  they  wish  prayers  in  their  behalf."  I 
read  the  note  just  as  it  was  written.  It  affected  the 
congregation ;  and  when  we  came  to  spread  out  the 
case  of  these  young  orphans  before  the  mercy-seat, 
there  was  tlie  stillness  of  the  grave,  save  that  now 
and  then  the  audible  sobbings  of  the  people  were 
heard  from  every  part  of  the  house.  I  knew  that  my 
people  were  praying  fervently  for  the  boys. 

In  less  than  six  months  from  that  time,  these  boys 
were  both  hopefully  converted,  and  both  members  of 
my  church.     Then  at  once  the  little  white-headed  boy 


A  YOUNG  MISSIONARY.  459 

became  a  tract  distributer.  I  never  heard  any  thing 
more  about  his  Uuitarianism. 

After  a  few  years  I  removed  from  that  part  of 
the  country,  and  knew  little  of  my  first  dear  charge. 
Many  changes  have  since  come  over  me,  but  nothing 
more  pleasant  than  the  scenes  through  which  I  then 
passed. 

About  three  years  ago,  at  a  meeting  of  the  Amer- 
ican Board  at  Brooklyn,  a  young  man  came  to  me  and 
introduced  himself  as  a  young  missionary,  soon  to  go 
to  the  East.  It  was  my  little  curly-haired  boy,  George. 
The  young  farmer  had  reared  him — sent  him  to  col- 
lege, and  to  the  seminary  at  Andover,  and  he  was  now 
girding  up  his  loins  to  enter  upon  the  work  of  life. 
His  errand  was  to  ask  me  to  go  back  to  the  old  church 
where  he  first  found  Christ,  and  there  preach  at  his 
ordination  for  the  missionary  work.  I  could  hardly 
refrain  from  tears.  In  a  moment  the  past  rose  up 
before  me,  and  I  seemed  to  see  the  little  orphan  as  he 
used  to  go  into  his  Sabbath-class,  with  his  little  Bible 
under  his  arm.  Blessings  on  the  young  farmer  who 
has  reared  up  a  missionary  of  the  cross.  What  a 
noble  use  to  which  to  put  his  property.  My  young 
friend  is  now  far  away  on  the  shores  of  India,  preach- 
ing Christ  to  the  heathen.  I  may  never  see  him 
again,  but  I  think  of  him  as  we  do  upon  children  that 
are  taken  from  us  in  early  life — they  are  always  chil- 
dren. But  if  he  is  faithful,  he  will  one  day  become 
an  angel  of  light,  and  stand  up  more  beautiful  than 
when  I  first  saw  him  in  the  budding  of  his  being. 
Blessings  on  his  head.  May  it  wear  a  crown  eternal. 
God  can  take  the  orphan  and  carry  him  safely  and 
kindly,  and  make  him  a  great  blessing  to  men.    Since 


460  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

that  time,  I  have  never  looked  upon  a  Sabbath-school 
but  it  seemed  to  me  that  I  could  see  among  their 
bright  eyes  some  -who  would  yet  become  missionaries 
of  the  cross. 


PRAYER  ANSWERED   AFTER  DEATH. 

Many  years  since,  some  young  men  belonging  to 

the  Senior  class  in college,  resolved  to  unite  in 

earnest  prayer  for  a  young  and  thoughtless  class-mate. 
In  a  few  months  commencement  came,  and  the  class 
and  the  praying  band  were  scattered.  But  the  soul 
of  that  godless  young  man  was  felt  as  a  burden  on 
the  heart  of  one  of  his  pious  class-mates,  and  though 
alone,  he  continued  his  supplications.  Then,  in  his 
far  western  home,  he  found  one  like-minded  with  him- 
self, and  he  persuaded  the  stranger  to  join  him  in  liis 
petition  for  his  former  companion. 

A  few  years  passed  away,  and  the  two  class-mates 
met  again  upon  their  native  soil.  The  careless  youth 
was  still  careless,  and  was  then  engaged  in  the  study 
of  law  in  a  neighboring  city.  The  other  one,  it  was 
manifest,  had  come  back  to  his  early  home  to  die. 
An  incurable  disease  was  wearing  out  his  life.  Still, 
his  desire  for  his  friend's  salvation  was  as  fresh  and 
strong  as  ever.  It  seemed  to  grow  more  intense  as 
life  waned.  It  mingled  in  all  his  thoughts ;  every 
person  whom  he  saw,  whom  he  knew  as  a  praying 
person,  he  besought,  saying,  "  Oh,  pray  for  that  young 
man  !"  and  to  the  last  liour  he  continued  liis  own  inter- 
cessions. 

His  early  coin])anion,  for  wliom  his  lieart  liad  so 


KINDNESS  TO  A  PASTOR.  461 

yearned,  stood  at  liis  grave,  and  saw  it  close  upon 
him  with  no  other  emotion  than  that  of  regret  for  a 
friend  of  his  youthful  days.  The  prayer  of  the  dead 
was  yet  unanswered.  But  ere  the  grass  grew  over 
that  grave  the  Spirit  of  God  was  poured  out  upon 
the  church  in  which  they  in  their  boyhood  had  wor- 
sliipped,  and  one  of  the  first  converts  was  the  young 
man  so  long  and  so  earnestly  prayed  for.  He  then 
devoted  himself  to  God  in  the  ministry  of  his  Son, 
and  his  hand  has  recorded  these  facts,  that  it  may  add 
another  illustration  to  the  truths,  that  the  Lord's  ear 
is  not  heavy  that  he  cannot  hear,  that  he  is  "not  slack 
concerning  his  promises,"  and  that  the  "  effectual  fer- 
vent prayer  of  the  righteous  man  availeth  much." 

M.  B.  G. 


KINDNESS  TO   A  PASTOR. 

A  great  discovery  was  made  by  a  New  England 
pastor  several  years  since.  He  had  been  absent  for 
some  weeks,  for  the  purpose  of  recruiting  his  strength, 
and  had  just  returned  with  renewed  vigor  to  the  scene 
of  his  labors.  He  had  been  but  a  few  hours  in  his 
house  when  he  bethought  himself  of  his  favorite  place 
of  prayer  and  labor — his  study.  He  ascended  the 
staircase  with  great  quietness  and  composure  of  mind, 
little  imagining  what  a  surprise  was  at  hand.  He 
walked  peacefully  and  thoughtfully  through  the  spa- 
cious upper  hall  towards  the  pleasant  room  he  was 
seeking.  He  opened  the  study  door  with  the  same 
calmess  of  spirit  whicli  had  marked  the  history  of  five 
and  twenty  years.  He  slnit  the  door,  and  as  yet  noth- 
ing remarkable  had  occurred,  and  all  was  well.    The 


462  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

stove  door  stood  open,  and  it  occurred  to  him  to  kin- 
dle a  little  fire,  as  it  was  somewhat  chilly,  and  it  was 
done.  Up  to  this  point  the  worthy  pastor  was  utter- 
ly ignorant  that  any  thing  important  awaited  him. 
He  was  a  man  of  a  well-balanced  mind,  of  a  uniform- 
ly peaceful  and  unruffled  temper,  and  strove  to  keep 
himself  in  a  proper  position  for  whatever  might  occur. 
He  had  had  his  sorrows,  and  meekly  did  he  sustain 
himself  under  them ;  and  such  scenes  of  prosperity  as 
now  and  then  gladdened  him,  were  not  suffered  to 
intoxicate  and  unman  him. 

But  such  a  scene  as  was  soon  to  open  before  him 
had  had  no  parallel  in  the  whole  previous  history  of 
liis  life.  There  had  been  striking  events  in  his  his- 
tory. His  ministry  had  been  one  of  success,  yet  often 
had  he  known  the  bitter  cup.  He  had  loved  the  peo- 
ple of  his  charge,  and  up  to  the  startling  event  soon 
to  be  related,  was  eminently  devoted  to  their  highest 
welfare.  He  had  entered  the  study  tliat  day  in  a  state 
of  mind  as  kind  and  tender  towards  them  as  he  had 
ever  been  conscious  of  experiencing. 

The  fire  in  his  stove  had  begun  to  crackle  most 
cheerfully.  He  had  closed  the  stove  door,  so  that  all 
might  be  safe.  He  had  placed  the  tongs  he  had  used 
back  again  in  their  proper  location.  A  little  ashes 
and  dust,  which  had  fallen  while  making  the  fire,  were 
swept  away  with  a  neat  little  brush,  and  the  brush  it- 
self was  hung  again  upon  the  peg  where  it  belonged. 

When  all  this  had  been  done,  and  the  worthy  man 
had  taken  a  step  or  two  towards  the  centre  study- 
table,  his  eye  fell  upon  the  objects  crowding  that 
table,  and  all  but  crushing  it  to  the  floor.  And  such 
objects !    Did  he  dream  ?    Wliere  was  he  ?    He  could 


KINDNESS  TO  A  PASTOR.  4G3 

hardly  believe  liis  eyes.  And  he  ventured  near  and 
tried  his  hands.  There  was  no  mistake.  The  senses 
could  not  be  imposed  upon.  All  scepticism  fled,  and 
there  came  over  the  astonished  man  the  sensation  of 
the  existence  in  his  study  of  seventy-five  vahiahk  and 
elegantly  bound  volumes,  with  a  label  in  modest  capitals, 
"  A  Present  by  the  People  to  their  Pastor." 

That  is  what  I  call  a  great  discovery.  The  good 
man  thought  so  too.  It  greatly  moved  him,  and  it 
moves  me  to  state,  in  divers  particulars,  some  of  the 
practical  bearings  of  such  discoveries. 

1.  In  them  is  discovered  the  genuine  kindness  of 
a  people  to  their  pastor.  Pew-taxes,  or  subscriptions 
for  his  support,  do  not  show  it.  They  are  business 
transactions  merely,  and  have  no  necessary  connection 
with  the  warmth  and  fervor  of  real  and  heartfelt 
kindness. 

2.  Herein  is  a  delicate  and  eloquent  hint  to  the  pas- 
tor to  bring  "beaten  oil"  into  the  sanctuary.  Those 
valuable  volumes — they  are  full  of  the  deep  thoughts 
of  thinking  men.  They  will  help  the  pastor  to  think. 
And  they  will  make  him  think,  that  the  best  return  he 
can  make  for  his  people's  kindness,  is  earnestly  to  en- 
deavor to  bring  out  for  his  people  thoughts  as  near  in 
value  and  worth  to  those  found  in  the  books  sent  him 
as  possible — and  even  better,  if  he  can. 

3.  Such  an  offering  is  a  very  comforting  intimation 
to  the  pastor,  that  he  is  desired  not  to  take  wing  and 
leave  his  people  just  at  present.  If  one  good  massive, 
valuable  volume  fairly  says,  "stay  longer,"  1  think 
fifty  of  them  would  come  very  nearly  into  the  neigh- 
borhood of  saying,  "  We  should  be  glad  to  have  you 
grow  grey  and  lay  your  bones  among  us.'' 


464  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

4.  Sucli  a  discovery  miglit  be  made  by  hosts  of 
pastors  in  the  land  without  any  thing  like  a  dreadful 
pecuniary  bankruptcy  on  the  part  of  their  benevolent 
people.  A  discovery  even  a  seventy-fifth  part  as  great 
as  that  above  recorded,  would  accomplish  two  impor- 
tant ends,  not  to  speak  of  more :  first,  it  would  fill  a 
painful  gap  in  the  pastor's  library ;  and  secondly,  it 
would  tell  him,  as  straws  do,  which  way  the  wind  was 
blowing.  H. 


A  SEAMSTRESS  AND  A  POOE  MINISTER. 

A  Christian  minister  was  settled,  near  the  close  of 
the  last  century,  in  a  small  parish  on  the  mountains  in 
western  Massachusetts.  With  a  family  of  five  sons 
and  five  daughters,  and  with  the  expenses  of  severe 
and  protracted  sickness,  he  was  obliged,  for  years,  to 
anticipate  the  whole  amount  of  his  support  before  it 
became  due.  His  good  and  generous  parishioners, 
always  awake  to  his  interests,  did  much,  by  gifts  and 
donations  and  prompt  payments,  "  to  strengthen  his 
hands  and  encourage  his  heart."  Still,  prospects  were 
dark,  and  a  small  extra  expense,  such  as  the  purchase 
of  a  new  suit  of  clothes,  was  met  with  delay  and  with 
difficulty.  At  one  time  he  met  such  a  marked  provi- 
dence, that  he  could  not  but  say,  "  This  is  the  finger 
of  God." 

A  young  lady  from  a  distance,  poor  indeed,  but 
noble  in  heart — one  who  lived  by  her  needle — called 
on  the  pastor,  and  after  mutual  expressions  of  civility, 
said  the  young  seamstress  with  modesty  and  some 
embarrassment,  "Sir,  shall  I  measure  you  for  a  coat?" 


THE  SEAMSTRESS  AND  MINISTER.  465 

After  doing  this,  she  added,  "  Shall  I  measure  you,  sir, 
for  a  vest?"  After  a  little  delay,  she  then  added,  as 
if  her  benevolence  was  expanding  beyond  her  first 
intention,  "I  think  I  will  take  measure,  sir,  for  a  suit 
entire."  Having  done  this,  and  no  question  being 
asked,  or  pledges  given,  the  young  lady  retired,  and 
soon  returned  to  her  distant  home,  near  the  borders 
of  Canada.  After  many  months,  a  neat  suit  of  clothes, 
of  the  finest  texture,  spun  and  prepared  almost  wholly 
by  her  own  fair  hands,  arrived.  It  was  at  a  time 
when  ingenious  mothers  and  daughters  could  produce 
a  fabric  not  unbecoming  the  Sabbath  or  the  pulpit. 
American  factories  had  not  yet  risen  up,  and  foreign 
broadcloths  were  at  their  highest  prices.  The  gift 
was  timely,  and  in  itself  valuable. 

And  God,  who  had  thus  supplied  the  wants  of  one 
of  his  poor  ministers,  took  care  of  the  young  maiden 
who  stretched  forth  her  hand  for  his  relief.  She  had 
become  an  orphan  by  the  death  of  an  excellent  Chris- 
tian father,  but  in  the  providence  of  God  she  formed 
a  connection  by  marriage  which  introduced  her  to 
wealth,  and  became  the  mother  of  a  family  of  high 
respectability.  One  of  her  sons  graduated  with  hon- 
or at  a  New  England  university.  How  true  it  is, 
that  "  charity  is  twice  blessed ;  it  blesses  him  that 
gives,  and  him  that  takes." 

This  record  is  made,  as  one  among  testimonials 
without  number,  that  God  is  true  in  his  promises  to 
his  ministers  and  to  the  friends  of  ministers. 

T.  M.  c. 


20* 


466  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 


THE  NEGLECT  OF  RELIGION. 


CONVICTIONS  STIFLED. 

Many  years  a^o  I  had  the  pleasure  of  spending 
some  time  in  two  places  in  the  state  of  New  York,  in 
which  powerful  revivals  of  religion  were  in  progress 
by  the  blessing  of  God  upon  the  labors  of  Rev.  Dr. 
Nettleton. 

In  the  course  of  the  first  revival  in  the  town  of 

,  a  gentleman  of  my  acquaintance  became  deeply 

anxious  for  his  soul.  He  wept,  he  mourned,  he  sighed, 
and  no  doubt  prayed  for  days  and  days  together.  But 
he  was  proud  and  obstinate — he  would  not  submit  to 
God.      ' 

One  day  his  pious,  amiable  wife,  whose  anxieties 
about  her  husband  were  almost  beyond  control,  came 
into  his  room,  and  finding  him  still  lingering  in  his 
wretched  condition,  and  solemnly  fearing  that  he 
would  grieve  away  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  turn  back  to 
the  world,  she  fell  upon  her  knees  in  his  presence, 
and  fervently  prayed  for  him.  The  husband's  state 
of  mind  after  that  prayer  may  be  conjectured,  but 
not  easily  described.  He  literally  ivrithed  in  mental 
anguish. 

Dr.  Nettleton  was  the  wisest  man  that  I  ever  saw 
in  tracing  out  the  operations  of  the  human  mind  when 
under  the  influences  of  the  divine  Spirit.  He  seemed 
to  possess  almost  intuitive  knowledge  of  this  subject. 
When  he  saw  a  sinner  long  lingering  under  convic- 


CONVICTIONS  STIFLED.  467 

tion  he  judged  that  there  was  a  special  cause,  and  he 
was  pretty  sure  to  detect  that  cause. 

One  day,  after  my  friend  Lambert,  for  so  I  will 
call  him,  had  been  struggling  with  and  stifling  his 
convictions  for  some  time,  Dr.  Xettleton  called  to  see 
him  once  more.  He  talked  witli  him,  pointed  him  to 
the  Saviour,  and  perhaps  prayed  with  him.  But  there 
Lambert  lingered  still,  a  miserable,  disconsolate,  lost 
sinner.  No  light,  uo  hope.  What  could  be  the  mat- 
ter? Dr.  Xettleton  smelt  ardent  spirits.  That  was 
enougli.  He  immediately  intimated  to  Lambert  that 
he  was  drinking  with  a  view  to  drive  away  his  convic- 
tions ;  and  I  believe  the  latter  did  not  deny  the  charge. 
Dr.  Xettleton  solemnly  warned  the  wretched  man,  and 
left  him.  What  was  the  result?  The  Spirit  of  God 
left  my  friend,  and  the  unclean  spirit  who  liad  gone 
out  returned  to  his  old  habitation,  accompanied  by 
seven  other  spirits  more  wicked  than  himself;  and  the 
last  state  of  that  man  was  worse  than  the  first. 

Perhaps  ten  months  passed  away,  when  a  blast  and 
a  mildew  rested  upon  all  that  pertained  to  this  miser- 
able man.  Xothing  prospered  in  his  hands.  His  busi- 
ness, though  formerly  flourishing,  was  in  ruins ;  and  he 
was  compelled  to  leave  the  beautiful  house  in  which 
he  lived.  This  was  not  the  worst — he  was  given  up 
of  God.  He  was  undone,  to  all  appearance,  for  time 
and  for  eternity.  His  lovely  wife  and  his  interesting 
children  were  disconsolate  and  broken-hearted. 

Go  with  me  now  through  yonder  street  of  the 
town  at  night,  and  what  do  we  see?  There  lies  poor 
wretched,  ruined  Lambert,  a  drunkard  in  the  ditch! 
0  God,  what  is  man  when  left  of  thy  Spirit?  Let  a 
veil,  for  the  present,  cover  the  sequel. 


468  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

Reader,  if  the  Spirit  of  God  strive  with  you,  as 
you  value  salvation,  grieve  him  not  away. 

N.  H. 


THE  PLEASURE  EIDE. 

In  a  powerful  revival  of  religion  in  a  town  in 
Connecticut,  some  years  since,  there  was  an  interest- 
ing young  lady  whose  mind  became  deeply  affected 
with  the  subject  of  religion.  She  felt  that  she  was  a 
poor  lost,  ruined  sinner,  in  infinite  danger  of  dying 
without  hope.  She  wept,  she  prayed,  she  threw  her- 
self among  the  anxious,  she  visited  the  house  of  God, 
and,  I  believe,  conversed  with  the  preacher  about  her 
sad  condition. 

Could  she  give  up  the  pleasure  of  the  world  at 
that  early,  interesting  period  of  life  ?  It  seemed  hard. 
Conscience  admonished,  the  Spirit  wooed,  the  world 
allured,  the  devil  tempted.  What  an  awful  conflict! 
She  hesitated,  she  lingered,  she  prayed  and  struggled 
and  resolved,  and  still  clung  to  her  idols. 

A  thoughtless  young  man,  no  doubt  sent  by  the 
adversary  of  souls,  came  and  said,  "  Will  you  take  a 
pleasure  ride?"  0,  what  a  question  to  be  put  to  one 
in  her  state  of  mind !  How  could  she  find  pleasure  in 
the  society  of  young  companions,  while  that  fearful 
pressure  was  upon  her  soul,  and  that  hell  in  her  bosom  ? 
Might  not  the  Spirit  be  grieved  away  and  leave  her 
for  ever  ?  It  was  a  tremendous  thought.  But — will 
the  reader  believe  it  ? — she  did  go  and  take  that  ride. 
It  was  a  fatal  one. 

About  two  days  had  elapsed ;  and  now  let  us  go 


THE  FATAL  RIDE.  469 

and  see  that  same  young  lady.  She  does  not  notice 
lis  as  "we  enter  the  room ;  but  she  lies  upon  the  bed, 
crying  out  in  horrible  anguish  of  spirit,  "  I  have  sold 
ray  soul.  I  have  sold  my  soul!  I  have  grieved  the 
Spirit.  I  am  lost!"  Oh,  it  was  a  dreadful  sight.  Her 
voice  of  wailing  seems  even  now  to  be  sounding  in 
my  ear.  We  left  the  house,  but  her  mournful  voice 
followed  us  :  "I  have  sold  my  birthright  for  a  mess  of 
pottage.     I  am  lost — I  am  lost!" 

Reader,  as  you  value  salvation,  rush  not  into  vain 
company  when  the  Holy  Spirit  is  striving  with  you. 
At  such  a  time,  one  pleasure  ride,  or  one  pleasure 
party,  may  cost  you  the  loss  of  heaven.  "  Grieve  not 
the  Spirit."  N.  h. 


THE  FATAL  RIDE. 

Miss  G.  S resided  in  a  village  in  one  of  the 

southern  states,  and  at  the  time  to  which  this  narra- 
tive refers,  was  about  fifteen  years  old.  She  was  sur- 
rounded by  worldly  and  fashionable  friends,  who 
admired  her,  and  who  allured  her  into  their  circles  of 
gayety.     A  pious  lady  in  the  village  established  a 

Bible-class  for  young  females,  and  Miss  S was 

solicited  to  join  it.  Without  much  hesitation  she  con- 
sented ;  and  took  her  seat  regularly  every  Sabbath 
with  her  young  companions,  to  receive  lessons  from 
the  word  of  God.  These  instructions  were  such  as 
she  had  not  enjoyed  at  home,  and  they  engaged  her 
attention,  and  seemed  gradually  to  fasten  upon  her  a 
serious  impression.  Siie  at  length  acknowledged  her 
solicitude  on  the  subject  of  religion  ;  she  said  that  she 


470  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

needed  a  new  heart,  and  hoped  the  Lord  would  give 
her  one.  Her  deportment  was  changed.  She  ceased 
to  take  pleasure  in  gay  society,  and  chose  that  of  her 
teacher  and  other  pious  friends.  She  appeared  to  be 
"  not  far  from  the  kingdom  of  God ;"  and  her  instruc- 
tress was  fondly  looking  for  her  full  consecration  of 
herself  to  the  Redeemer,  and  public  profession  of  his 
name. 

The  winter  with  its  fashionable  parties  and  enter- 
tainments now  approached,  and  the  pleasures  of  the 
season  excited  and  absorbed  the  young  people  of  the 
village,  and  excluded  every  serious  thought.  Sleigh- 
ing parties  and  balls  were  the  subjects  of  conversa- 
tion,   and    created    high    enthusiasm.      Miss    S 

watched  these  movements  of  gayety,  and  seemed  to 
take  a  deeper  and  deeper  interest  in  them,  and  to  be 
less  in  earnest  about  the  salvation  of  her  soul.  Her 
worldly  companions  perceived  this,  and  ventured  to 
propose  that  she  should  accompany  them  on  one  of 
their  parties  of  pleasure.  The  day  appointed  was  the 
Sabbath.  The  proposition  at  first  shocked  her.  The 
thought  of  desecrating  those  holy  hours,  which  she 
had  for  a  long  time  been  accustomed  to  spend  in  the 
Bible-class  and  at  the  sanctuary,  brought  a  faithful 
remonstrance  from  her  own  conscience.  But  the  temp- 
tation was  perseveringly  urged,  and  it  at  length  pre- 
vailed. 

She  went  on  the  Sabbath  sleigh-ride,  while  the 
other  members  of  the  Bible-class  assembled  as  usual 
in  their  little  school-room.     The  instructress  looked 

around  anxiously  for  G.  S .     She  was   absent. 

The  painful  discovery  was  made  that  she  had  gone 
on  a  pleasure  excursion.      The  heart  of  the  pious 


AN  EASTERN  STUDENT.  471 

teacher  was  filled  with  distress.     After  being  exposed 

for  hours  to  the  wintry  air,  Miss  S returned  to 

her  home  unhappy,  Rcmorrfc  took  possession  of  her 
mind,  but  led  not  to  repentance.  Alienated  from  her 
religious  duties  and  her  pious  companions  by  a  sense 
of  guilt,  she  returned  to  the  world,  and  to  the  paths 
of  folly. 

A  ball  was  to  be  given  in  a  neighboring  town ; 
tlie  time  was  fixed,  the  company  selected,  and  exten- 
sive preparations  were  made.     Miss  S was  to  be 

at  the  ball.  The  materials  for  her  ball-dress  were 
purchased.  But  a  "  slight  cold,"  which  she  had  taken 
during  her  Sabbath  sleighing  excursion,  grew  worse. 
The  ball  night  came ;  the  gay  company  assembled — 

but  Miss  S ■  was  not  there.     She  was  not  in  this 

world !  That  night  her  soul  had  been  required  of 
her.     The  ball-dress  had  become  a  shroud.     At  the 

hour  of  the  dance  and  festivity,  in  which  G S 

was  to  have  borne  her  part,  she  was  summoned  away 
to  the  scenes  of  the  eternal  world.  The  summons 
found  her  confessedly  unprepared.  She  had  declined 
choosing  the  "  good  part,''  and  she  was  now  to  die  in 
bitter  regrets,  and  without  hope. 


AN  EASTERN  STUDENT. 

Many  years  since,  two  young  men  were  fellow- 
students  at  an  eastern  college.  In  an  outpouring  of 
the  Spirit,  one  of  the  two  became  convicted,  and  urged 
the  other  to  join  him  in  asking  permission  from  the 
tutor  to  attend  an  evening  inquiring-meeting.  His 
friend  had  no  wish  to  go  ;  but  he  obtained  permission 


472  SKETCHES  PROM  LIFE. 

for  both,  and  again  entreated  his  companion  to  accom- 
pany him.  Overcome  by  this  persevering  importu- 
nity, his  friend  at  length  agreed  to  "  walk  do^Yn  town 
with  him."  They  went  together  to  the  place  of  the 
meeting.  At  tlie  door  they  paused,  and  looked  in, 
still  debating  the  question  of  entering.  At  length, 
the  one  who  had  been  so  reluctant  yielded,  and  passed 
in.  But  lo,  the  other  also  changed  his  mind,  turned, 
and  went  his  way.  The  one  who  entered  was  found 
by  the  Spirit  of  God,  and  made  a  rejoicing  convert. 
The  other  went  back  to  the  world. 

At  the  close  of  their  college  course,  they  separated. 
He  who  was  converted  became  an  able  and  faith- 
ful minister  of  Christ  at  the  west.  After  many 
years,  revisiting  the  place  of  his  education,  as  he  was 
riding  to  preach  in  the  very  place  and  church  in  which 
he  was  converted,  he  heard  some  one  calling  him.  On 
turning,  he  met  a  sight  that  filled  him  with  grief. 
Before  him  stood  the  friend  of  his  early  days,  the 
student  who  urged  him  to  attend  the  inquiring-meet- 
ing. But  alas,  how  changed !  That  bright  and  splen- 
did intellect  was  a  wreck ;  the  fires  of  genius  and 
intelligence  had   been   quenched   in   the  drunkard's 

bowl.     "Why,  ,  you  are  a  drunkard,"  was  the 

first  exclamation  of  his  sorrowing  friend.  "  I  know 
it,"  he  answered  mournfully.  "But  why  don't  you 
reform  ?"  "  I  have  tried,  but  it  is  of  no  use."  "  Then 
you  are  ruined,  both  body  and  soul."  "  I  know  it," 
was  the  reply.  He  then  went  on  to  give  his  history 
since  they  had  separated.  "  You  recollect,"  he  said, 
"  the  time  of  that  inquiring-meeting.  From  that  time 
I  date  my  fall.  From  the  instant  that  I  made  my 
decision  not  to  enter  that  meeting,  my  heart  became 


GRIEVING  THE  SPIRIT  OF  GOD.  i73 

steeled.  ]My  serious  impressions  vanished,  and  I  ran 
the  way  of  my  passions  without  control.  I  have  thus 
gone  on,  till  I  am  what  you  see ;  nothing  now  has 
any  power  to  restrain  me." 

After  further  discourse,  they  again  separated.  He 
who  had  thus  stifled  his  convictions,  soon  ran  his  race, 
and  descended  to  a  dishonored  grave,  and  we  fear,  to 
a  miserable  eternity.  The  other  was  still  honored 
with  the  privilege  of  cultivating  the  blooming  field 
which  his  labors  aided  to  recover  from  the  wilder- 


GRIEVING  THE   SPIRIT  OF  GOD, 

As,  in  the  providence  of  God,  I  have  been  brought 
into  contact  with  thousands  of  persons  who  have  told 
me  with  much  candor  the  history  of  their  own  minds, 
and  conversed  freely  in  reference  to  the  all-important 
subject  of  their  own  salvation,  I  have  thought  it  to  be 
my  duty  to  record  some  of  the  facts  I  have  met,  for 
the  benefit  and  warning  of  others.  That  there  is  a 
turning-point  in  the  history  of  every  soul  that  lives 
under  the  light  of  the  gospel,  no  one  doubts  who  be- 
lieves in  the  renewing  and  sanctifying  agency  of  the 
Spirit ;  but  too  many  take  it  for  granted  that  this 
point  is  not  reached  till  the  close  of  life,  and  neglect 
or  resist  the  strivings  of  the  Spirit  till  he  gives  them 
up  to  hardness  of  heart  and  blindness  of  mind,  per- 
haps many  years  before  their  earthly  existence  has 
terminated. 

The  first  case  I  shall  mention  is  that  of  a  woman 
about  thirty  years  of  age,  with  whom  I  conversed  in 
the  presence  of  her  mother.    I  inquired  if  she  was  a 


414  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

member  of  any  church.  She  answered,  "No."  I 
asked  if  she  had  not  at  some  time  felt  concern  for  her 
salvation.  "Yes,"  she  said,  "I  think  but  few  have 
been  more  anxious  on  the  subject  than  I  was  once." 
I  asked  at  what  period  of  her  life  this  occurred,  when 
she  gave  me  the  following  account  of  God's  dealings 
with  her.  "  When  I  was  about  fifteen  years  old,  I 
felt  that  I  was  a  great  sinner  in  the  sight  of  God. 
Often  my  distress  was  so  great  that  I  could  not  sleep ; 
and  for  three  years  I  seldom  had  peace  a  "week  at  a 
time.  I  knew  that  the  Holy  Spirit  was  striving  with 
me,  and  that  I  ought  to  yield  my  heart  to  his  influ- 
ence ;  but  I  thought  it  would  cut  off  my  pleasures  in 
the  midst  of  youth.  I  tried  to  banish  the  thoughts  of 
eternity  ;  but  they  would  still  return  and  interrupt 
my  pleasure.  I  tried  reading  novels  and  romances; 
they  gave  me  relief  for  a  while,  but  my  distress  re- 
turned. At  last  I  went  to  the  ballroom,  and  I  have 
never  since  had  such  feelings  as  before."  "  And  have 
you  no  fears,"  said  I,  "  that  you  have  grieved  away  the 
Spirit  of  God  for  ever  ?"  "  Yes,"  she  replied,  "  I  have 
no  doubt  of  that,  and  that  I  shall  be  lost."  I  pro- 
ceeded to  describe  the  state  and  misery  of  the  lost, 
and  appealed  to  her,  by  the  prayers  of  her  mother,  and 
the  tears  which  were  then  falling  from  her  sunken 
eyes;  by  the  danger  of  an  eternal  separation  from 
pious  friends ;  by  the  glories  of  heaven,  and  the  ago- 
nies of  the  Son  of  God,  now  to  make  her  peace  with 
him  and  be  saved.  "All  this,"  she  calmly  replied, 
"has  been  tried  upon  me  before.  Nothing  that  you 
or  any  other  man  can  say  on  that  subject,  can  move 
me  now.     My  doom  is  fixed." 

Another  case  was  that  of  Mr.  B ,  who  was 


GRIEVING  THE  SPIRIT  OF  GOD.  475 

over  seveiil)'-  years  old,  and  living-  an  ungodly  life.  I 
approached  him  with  kindness,  and  at  length  he  con- 
versed freely.  I  spoke  of  the  goodness  of  God  to  him 
in  his  advanced  years,  and  asked  if  he  hoped  he  had 
an  interest  in  Ciirist.  He  replied,  "  No."  I  asked  if 
he  received  the  Bible  as  the  word  of  God.  He  an- 
swered, "  Yes."  I  said,  "  The  Bible  teaches  that  a  man 
must  be  born  again  before  he  can  enter  the  kingdom 
of  God ;  do  you  think  you  have  experienced  that 
change  T'  "  No,"  said  he,  "  I  never  have."  I  saw  that 
he  was  intelligent,  and  inquired  if  no  "  still  small 
voice"  had  ever  whispered  to  him,  "Son,  give  me  thy 
heart?"  "  Yes,"  said  he,  " often.  I  used  to  feel ;  but 
for  many  years  I  have  not  felt  as  I  did  when  I  was 
young.  I  then  had  some  very  serious  times."  I  asked 
at  what  period  he  had  felt  most  deeply  the  importance 
of  religion.  He  replied,  "When  I  was  seventeen  I 
began  to  feel  deeply  at  times,  and  this  continued  for 
two  or  three  years  ;  but  I  determined  to  put  it  off  till 
I  should  be  settled  in  life.  After  I  was  married,  I 
reflected  that  the  time  had  come  when  I  had  promised 
to  attend  to  religion  ;  but  I  had  bought  this  farm,  and 
I  thought  it  would  not  suit  me  to  become  religious  till 
it  was  paid  for,  as  some  time  would  have  to  be  de- 
voted to  attend  church,  and  also  some  expense.  I 
then  resolved  to  put  it  off  ten  years ;  but  when  the  ten 
years  came  round,  I  thought  no  more  about  it.  I 
often  try  to  think,  but  I  cannot  keep  my  mind  on  the 
subject  one  moment."  I  urged  him  by  all  the  terrors 
of  dying  an  enemy  of  God,  to  set  about  the  work  of 
repentance.  "It  is  too  late,"  said  he;  "I  believe  my 
doom  is  sealed  ;  and  it  is  just  that  it  should  be  so,  for 
the  Spirit  strove  long  with  me,  but  I  refused."    I  then 


476  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

turned  to  his  cliilclrcu,  young  men  and  young  women 
who  were  around  him,  and  entreated  them  not  to  put 
off  the  subject  of  religion,  or  grieve  the  Spirit  of  God, 
in  their  youthful  days.  The  old  man  added,  "  Mind 
that.  If  I  had  attended  to  it  then,  it  would  have  been 
well  with  me  to-day ;  but  now  it  is  too  late." 

On  conversing  with  a  man  in  middle  life,  he  in- 
formed me  that  his  father  was  a  devoted  Christian, 
that  he  was  faithfully  instructed,  and  his  mind  was 
early  impressed  with  the  importance  of  religion.  In 
his  youth,  there  was  a  period  of  six  months  in  which 
he  was  in  distress,  day  and  night ;  and  a  voice  within 
seemed  to  be  continually  saying,  "  Forsake  your  sins, 
and  come  unto  me,  and  I  will  give  you  peace."  "  But," 
he  added,  "  I  did  not  wish  to  be  a  Christian  then  ;  I 
thought  it  would  ruin  my  pleasures.  I  visited  a  part 
of  the  country  where  dancing  and  balls  were  frequent ; 
in  a  little  time  my  serious  thoughts  were  gone,  and  I 
have  never  had  any  since."  I  asked  if  he  did  not  fear 
that  God  had  given  him  up.  "  Yes,"  said  he,  "  I  am 
afraid  he  has.  I  go  to  church,  and  read  the  Bible, 
and  try  to  feel,  but  I  cannot."  I  strove  to  arouse  his 
fears ;  but  it  was  in  vain.  I  afterwards  learned  that 
he  was  pursuing  his  worldly  business  on  the  Sabbath. 

It  is  not  for  me  to  pronounce  that  God  had  said 
of  all  these  persons,  they  are  "joined  to  their  idols, 
let  them  alone ;"  "  Woe  to  them  when  I  depart  from 
them ;"  but  the  state  of  all  such  is  unspeakably  alarm- 
ing. If  such  is  your  case ;  if  you  have  wilfully  dashed 
the  cup  of  salvation  from  your  lips,  when  God  by  his 
Spirit  was  wooing  you  to  himself;  if  you  have  per- 
sisted in  saying,  "  Go  thy  way  for  this  time,  let  me 
alone  that  I  may  have  the  pleasures  of  this  life,"  and 


GRIEVING  THE  SPIRIT  OF  GOD.  4T7 

have  quenched  the  Spirit  by  resorting  to  amusements, 
the  novel,  the  ballroom,  or  the  theatre,  God  may  have 
given  you  what  you  desired  ;  but  what  have  you  now 
of  all  these  pleasures?  Can  you  look  back  upon  them 
with  an  approving  conscience?  Will  they  bring  you 
consolation  in  a  dying  hour?  No.  You  have,  even 
now  in  your  own  soul,  if  you  would  make  the  confes- 
sion, the  gnawings  of  the  worm  that  never  dies,  the 
burning  of  the  fire  that  is  never  quenched.  You  will 
have  no  excuse  when  you  stand  before  the  throne  of 
the  eternal  Judge.  He  will  say,  "  I  called,  but  you 
refused  ;  I  stretched  out  my  hand  to  you,  but  you  did 
not  regard  it." 

But  to  the  dying  sinner  with  whom  the  Spirit  of 
God  is  now  striving,  let  me  say,  it  is  the  most  mo- 
mentous period  of  your  existence.  It  is  perhaps  the 
turning  point  between  heaven  and  hell — the  songs  of 
angels,  or  the  wailings  of  the  finally  lost.  0  seize 
the  present  moment,  while  the  voice  of  the  Spirit  is 
whispering  in  your  ear,  "Now  is  the  accepted  time." 
Beware  of  stifling  that  voice.  Multitudes  have  told 
me  the  dreadful  tale,  "I  went  to  scenes  of  amuse- 
ment, or  turned  to  the  exciting  romance,  and  I  have 
felt  no  anxiety  since." 

0  awakened  sinner,  while  the  Spirit  strives,  it  is 
the  seed-time  of  eternal  life,  the  embryo  of  a  happy 
immortality.  Sit  not  down  to  count  the  loss  of  sinful 
pleasures  ;  receive  the  Saviour  into  your  heart,  and  you 
will  have  pleasures  lasting  as  eternity — pleasures  that 
leave  no  sting  behind — pleasures  that  will  sustain  the 
soul  when  on  your  dying  pillow,  when  the  last  trump 
sliall  sound,  and  the  congregated  world  stand  before 
God.  J.  c. 


418  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

RELIGION  DEFERRED. 

In  the  early  part  of  my  life,  writes  a  lady  in  1846, 
I  was  attending  a  boarding-school  for  young  ladies. 
The  school  was  flourishing,  and  we  were  a  peculiarly 
united  and  happy  company.  We  enjoyed  much  in  the 
society  of  each  other,  and  in  the  instructions  of  our 
loved  teachers. 

In  the  early  part  of  the  term  the  school  was  visit- 
ed by  the  precious  influences  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  Some 
of  our  number  were  hopefully  converted  to  God ;  and 
many  others  were  deeply  impressed  with  the  neces- 
sity of  attending  immediately  to  the  concerns  of  the 

soul,  one  of  whom  was  Maria  B .     Her  natural 

temperament  was  rather  gay  and  lively,  but  her  dis- 
position very  amiable,  and  she  readily  won  the  afi'ec- 
tions  of  all  who  became  acquainted  with  her. 

Our  principal  labored  with  us  all  faithfully.  She 
strove  to  impress  upon  those  of  us  who  were  profes- 
sors of  religion,  the  duty  of  seeking  earnestly  the  sal- 
vation of  our  dear  companions.  She  reminded  us 
not  only  of  our  duty  to  converse  with  them,  and  pray 
for  them  and  with  them,,  but  that  we  ought  constantly 
to  exhibit  our  principles  and  live  religion  before  them. 

But  after  a  season  this  special  religious  interest 
died  away,  and  among  those  who  were  left  unconvert- 
ed was  Maria.  Her  health  was  always  delicate,  and 
towards  the  close  of  the  term  it  began  considerably  to 
decline.  She  appeared  uniformly  gentle  and  amiable, 
and  with  a  spirit  somewhat  subdued.  I  often  thought 
I  ought,  in  some  way,  manifest  the  desire  which  I  still 
felt  for  the  salvation  of  her  soul,  and  resolved  repeat- 
edly that  I  would  entreat  her  to  consecrate  herself  to 


RELIGION  DEFERRED.  4T9 

the  service  of  God,  and  become  a  sincere  friend  and 
follower  of  the  Saviour.  But  as  no  very  favorable 
opportunity  occurred  for  a  long  time,  I  continually 
delayed  what  I  felt  to  be  an  important  duty. 

She  was  frequently  absent  from  the  table  on  ac- 
count of  ill  health  ;  and  on  one  such  occasion  I  obtain- 
ed permission  to  carry  her  some  light  food,  and  sit 
with  her  while  the  family  were  at  tea.  When  I 
entered  the  room  I  found  her  alone,  and  very  sad. 
She  appeared  grateful  for  my  attention,  and  it  seemed 
to  me  a  favorable  opportunity  to  direct  her  thoughts 
to  the  Saviour,  and  to  dwell  upon  the  realities  of 
eternity.  But  I  felt  reluctant  to  commence  the  con- 
versation, and  allowed  the  time  to  pass  by  without 
saying  one  word  on  the  subject  which  was  weighing 
so  heavily  upon  my  heart.  After  tea  was  over,  some 
gay  young  ladies  came  in,  and  I  withdrew.  A  few 
days  after  this  she  left  us,  and  returned  to  her  parents, 
sick.  We  frequently  heard  that  she  still  remained 
feeble,  but  we  heard  nothing  of  the  state  of  her  mind. 

The  close  of  the  term  was  rapidly  approaching; 
and  with  it  the  excitement  of  the  coming  examination, 
sorrow  that  we  must  so  soon  be  separated,  and  joy  at 
our  anticipated  meeting  Avith  our  beloved  families  and 
friends.  Soon  we  were  all  scattered,  and  I  returned 
to  my  home  far  away  from  all  my  school-fellows.  I 
occasionally  heard  from  one  and  another  of  them 
with  much  interest,  but  nothing  from  Maria  ;  until  at 
length  a  paper  was  sent  me,  and  in  the  list  of  deaths 

was  the  name  of  Maria  B .    My  pen  would  vainly 

attempt  to  describe  my  feelings  on  seeing  it.  A  re- 
membrance of  my  unfaithfulness  came  over  me  with 
crushing  weight.    She  had  gone  into  eternity,  and  all 


480  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

further  opportunity  to  beseech  her  to  come  to  a  mer- 
ciful Saviour  was  gone  for  ever.  I  might  have  be- 
sought her  once,  but  now  it  was  too  late. 

I  eagerly  examined  the  few  words  which  were  said 
of  her,  to  catch,  if  possible,  some  ray  of  hope  that  she 
had,  in  her  last  days,  made  her  peace  with  God ;  but 
I  only  found  a  notice  of  the  sweetness  of  her  disposi- 
tion and  of  the  general  loveliness  of  her  character, 
while  nothing  was  said  of  a  change  of  heart,  of  re- 
pentance for  sin,  of  faith  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  or 
of  hope  of  salvation  through  the  efficacy  of  his  atoning 
blood.  I  took  the  paper  and  retired  to  my  chamber, 
to  weep  and  pray  over  my  neglect  of  duty,  to  seek  for- 
giveness from  God,  and  implore  his  assistance  to 
enable  me  in  future  to  obey,  without  hesitation,  the 
voice  of  conscience  and  of  his  word. 

For  a  long  time  the  day  of  judgment  was  vividly 
before  me.  The  mild  eye  of  Maria  seemed  resting 
upon  me,  with  a  look  unutterably  expressive — a  look 
which  pierced  my  heart  with  anguish ;  for  it  seemed 
to  say,  "  You  saw  my  danger,  but  you  warned  me  not. 
You  knew  the  way  of  life,  but  you  directed  me  not  to 
walk  in  it.  You  had  experienced  the  love  of  the 
Saviour,  but  you  invited  me  not  to  come  to  him.  Now 
it  is  for  ever  too  late."  The  record  of  my  unfaithful' 
ness  was  in  the  book  of  God,  and  my  sin  was  contin- 
ually before  me.  I  did  not  attempt  to  relieve  my 
overburdened  heart  by  expressing  its  anguish  to  any 
one,  but  to  my  God.  I  felt  that  through  his  mercy  he 
might  forgive  me,  and  grant  me  grace  to  be  more 
faithful.  That  he  would  do  so,  for  the  Redeemer's 
sake,  was  my  earnest  prayer. 

Oh,  if  we  lived  with  eternity  constantly  in  view — 


THE  CRITICAL  MOMENT.  481 

if  we  felt  at  all  times  the  infinite  value  of  the  soul,  we 
could  not  be  so  negligent  and  unfaithful  as  we  are 
prone  to  be,  but  should  work  while  it  is  day;  know- 
ing that  "  the  night  cometh,  when  no  man  can  work." 

Serena. 


THE   CRITICAL  MOMENT. 

It  was  a  time  of  awakening  in  N .     Serious 

thoughts  were  taking  possession  of  a  number  of  minds. 
Among  those  who  were  in  some  degree  impressed  by 

divine  truth,  was  our  young  friend  H W — —.   She 

attended  the  stated  meetings,  and  sought  the  advice 
of  her  pastor.  Her  whole  deportment  showed  that 
she  felt  she  was  not  safe  in  her  present  condition. 
It  was  hoped  that  she  would  soon  come  to  such  a  view 
of  her  own  evil  heart,  and  of  the  love  of  Christ,  that 
she  would  be  led  to  yield  to  him  in  cordial  submis- 
sion, and  devote  to  him  the  remainder  of  her  days. 

But  among  her  acquaintance  was  one  who  feared 

not  God.    0 Y was  a  young  man  who  showed 

her  marked  attentions,  and  exerted  much  influence 
over  her  mind.   He  disliked  the  humbling  doctrines  of 

the  Cross,  to  which  H AV was  accustomed  to 

listen.  They  were  unacceptable  to  his  proud,  unre- 
newed heart,  and  steadfastly  he  set  himself  to  oppose 
them.  He  began  to  rally  her  on  her  seriousness,  to 
laugh  at  her  as  he  saw  her  countenance  sobered  by 
those  unwonted  thoughts  which  were  struggling  for  a 
place  within  her  bosom.  He  derided  the  meetings 
which  she  attended,  and  sported  at  those  who  were 
seeking  to  serve  God  in  truth. 

As  he  saw  that  those  meetings  and  the  words  there 


482  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

heard  had  influence  on  her  mind,  he  determined  to 
draw  her  away  from  them,  hoping  that  thus  he  might 
bring  her  Lack  to  her  former  state.  He  therefore 
appointed  to  visit  her  on  the  evening  of  the  meeting 
for  prayer  in  which  she  felt  deeply  interested,  and 
assured  her,  that  if  she  should  attend  the  meeting,  he 
should  regard  it  as  a  marked  token  of  personal  dis- 
respect. 

Here  was  a  trial.  Here  was  the  critical  time, 
perhaps  the  turning-point  of  her  religious  history. 
On  the  one  hand  stood  the  service  of  God,  on  the 
other  the  service  of  the  world  ;  on  the  one  hand  the 
favor  of  God,  on  the  other  the  favor  of  the  world  ;  on 
the  one  hand  conscience,  on  the  other  her  own  incli- 
nations ;  on  the  one  hand  tlie  Spirit  of  grace,  on  the 
other  the  voice  of  the  tempter .. 

And  what  was  the  decision?  She  chose  to  risk 
the  eternal  interests  of  her  immortal  soul,  rather  than 
lose  a  few  hours  of  empty  enjoyment.  She  chose  to 
meet  the  frown  of  God,  rather  than  that  of  a  poor 
weak  worm  of  the  dust  like  herself.  The  next  day 
her  seriousness  seemed  to  have  vanished,  she  appeared 
as  light  and  gay  as  ever  ;  though  it  could  be  seen  that 
she  was  ill  at  ease.  She  felt  that  slie  had  taken  a 
step  which  she  could  not  retrace. 

If,  dear  reader,  you  feel  that  you  are  in  the  wrong 
Avay,  tlien  let  nothing  upon  earth,  nothing  of  all  its 
joys,  its  pleasures,  its  friendships,  call  you  away  from 
now  seeking  the  salvation  of  your  soul.  And  above 
all,  see  to  it  that  you  never  occupy  the  place  of  him 
who  thus  drew  away  one  wlio  was  beginning  to  turn 
her  steps  heavenward.  May  it  not  be  feared  that,  in 
a  terrible  sense,  he  has  murdered  her  soul ;  that  while 


"I  CANNOT  GIVE  UP  THE  WORLD."        483 

he  was  pleading  friendship,  he  was  the  worst  enemy 
whicli  she  had,  or  could  have,  since  he  thus  led  her  to 
eternal  ruin?  Who  would  stand  in  his  place  ?  Who 
would  lead  an  undying  soul  to  perdition?  w. 


"I  CANNOT  GIVE   UP  THE  WORLD  YET  " 

The  despairing  death  of  a  young  man  in  my  con- 
gregation, was  followed  by  a  deep  seriousness  among 
his  companions.  There  appeared  to  be  genuine  con- 
trition for  sin,  and  in  none  more  decidedly  than  in  a 
young  lady  who  was  the  pride  of  the  youthful  circle. 
She  was  the  daughter  of  a  prosperous  merchant,  sur- 
rounded by  the  attractions  of  wealth  and  the  gay 
company  and  pleasures  it  brings ;  but  a  pious  mother 
had  sought  to  lead  her  to  the  Saviour.  She  had  often 
been  serious,  and  was  now  more  decidedly  so  than 
ever.  Before,  she  had  grieved  the  Spirit;  now,  she 
wished  to  become  a  Christian.  Her  Bible  was  read  ; 
she  prayed  in  secret,  and  came  to  her  pastor  and  freely 
unburdened  her  soul.  Her  convictions  of  sin  were 
pungent ;  her  views  of  the  way  of  salvation  apparently 
clear  and  correct.  With  childlike  simplicity  she  be- 
sought me  to  counsel  her  and  pray  for  her. 

I  believed  she  was  near  the  kingdom  of  heaven, 
and  expected  the  Saviour  would  very  soon  appear 
precious  to  her.  But  upon  a  closer  examination  I 
found  an  obstacle  of  fearful  magnitude.  She  did  not 
understand  her  own  heart.  She  thought  she  was  will- 
ing to  give  her  affections  to  Christ,  resigning  every 
idol,  but  she  had  not  looked  closely.  The  world  and 
her  old  associates  still  had  a  power  over  her,  though 
she  knew  it  not.     She  would  be  a  Christian,  vet  like 


484  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

the  wife  of  Lot,  looked  back  with  a  wishful  eye  to 
what  she  had  left.  Seeing  the  fearful  peril  of  her  soul, 
and  the  importance  of  a  speedy  decision,  I  showed  her 
the  danger  of  continuing  in  her  present  state,  and 
urged  her  to  surrender  her  heart  to  God. 

After  an  interval  of  a  few  days  I  sought  her  resi- 
dence, and  found  her  much  as  before.  She  frankly 
revealed  to  me  the  exercises  of  her  mind.  "In  the 
silence  of  my  chamber,  away  from  the  world,  where  I 
can  seriously  weigh  the  all-important  subject,  I  think 
I  feel  willing  to  give  up  all.  I  can  there  feel  that  I 
am  a  great  sinner,  that  Christ  is  just  such  a  Saviour 
as  I  need,  and  that  the  world  is  false  ;  but  the  moment 
a  companion  comes  in  I  am  changed,  and  feel  unwill- 
ing to  renounce  all.  I  want  to  break  away  from 
these ;  but  how  can  I  ?"  I  again  represented  her 
danger,  and  told  her  that  if  she  did  not  become  a 
Christian  now,  she  probably  never  would.  As  tlie 
Spirit  had  often  striven  with  her,  he  might  now  take 
his  departure,  never  to  return.  I  trembled  for  an 
immortal  soul,  over  whose  conversion  angels  desired 
to  rejoice.  She  soon  made  a  choice — but  alas,  she 
chose  the  world.  When  1  again  approached  her  on 
the  subject,  she  said,  "I  find  I  cannot  give  up  the 
world  yet."     She  had  too  many  sacritices  to  make. 

Years  have  since  passed.  She  has  been  no  more 
conscious  of  a  Saviour  standing  at  the  door  of  her 
heart  and  asking  to  come  in  ;  no  Spirit's  whisperings 
have  been  breathed  in  her  car ;  no  tear  of  penitence 
has  moistened  her  cheek.  She  acknowledges  she  has 
no  feeling — no  desire  to  be  a  Christian  at  present. 
She  drowns  all  thoughts  of  death  and  the  judgment 
in  the  cup  of  pleasure. 


A  NOVEL-READER.  485 

There  is  a  crisis  in  the  life  of  every  impenitent 
sinner,  a  season  when  the  Spirit  comes  to  him  for  the 
last  time — when  he  must  choose  between  the  pleasures 
of  the  world  and  the  service  of  God.  You  may  not 
know  when  you  pass  that  crisis.  With  eagerness  you 
may  be  pursuing  the  world,  deferring  for  a  convenient 
season  the  one  thing  needful,  while  God  has  written 
your  name  among  those  of  whom  he  says,  "Ephraim 
is  joined  to  idols:  let  him  alone."  0  cherish  the 
strivings  of  the  Spirit,  before  it  is  for  ever  too  late. 
Cast  in  your  lot  with  the  people  of  God.  Go  with 
your  wicked  heart — all  that  you  value  on  earth  ;  carry 
them  to  Calvary,  and  resolve  that  if  you  perish,  it 
shall  be  there,  pleading  for  mercy.  w. 


A  NOVEL-READER. 

I  believe  I  was  about  fifteen:  the  precise  time 
has  vanished  from,  my  memory,  but  never  can  the  cir- 
cumstances of  that  day  be  forgotten.  It  was  a  pleas- 
ant Sabbath  morning,  and  I  went  to  the  house  of 
prayer  with  my  friends,  with  no  unusual  interest  in 
religious  things.  But  something  in  the  prayer  fixed 
my  attention,  and  prepared  me  to  listen  to  the  sermon. 
My  interest  deepened.  I  began  to  feel  as  I  had  rarely 
felt  before,  that  the  truths  spoken  had  a  solemn  bear- 
ing upon  my  own  destiny.  The  voice  of  God  spoke 
in  my  soul  of  wasted  hours  and  talents,  and  of  the 
coming  eternity  with  all  its  tremendous  realities.  It 
was  not  the  earthquake,  nor  the  fire,  but  the  still 
small  voice.  I  was  neither  terror-stricken  nor  over- 
whelmed ;  but  it  seemed  to  me  as  if  an  angel  spoke, 


486  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

setting  my  sins  before  me,  and  inviting  me  to  turn  and 
live.  For  a  moment  the  rebellious  passions  were 
stilled,  the  way  of  holiness  seemed  a  blessed  way,  and 
my  heart  almost  said,  "I  will  arise,  and  go  to  my 
Father." 

Never  before  had  I  felt  it  my  immediate  duty  to 
turn  unto  God.  Often,  from  my  early  childhood,  had 
I  had  fearful  forebodings  of  a  coming  judgment ;  but 
until  this  time  no  voice  had  ever  said  to  me,  "  Now  is 
the  accepted  time."  I  knew  that  these  feelings  could 
be'  easily  dissipated,  but  that  by  earnest  prayer  and 
diligent  study  of  God's  word,  they  might  be  deepened 
and  strengthened,  and  I  almost  resolved  that  I  would 
give  no  rest  to  my  spirit  until  I  found  it  in  peace 
with  God.  Almost !  alas,  it  was  only  an  almost.  What 
came  between  me  and  my  God  ?  Am  I  not  giving  the 
history  of  many,  when  I  say  it  was  the  fascinations  of 
a  novel?  I  had  been  reading  one  the  previous  day, 
and  had  left  it  with  an  earnest  desire  to  know  the 
close.  I  had  indulged  myself  in  novel-reading  until  it 
had  become  a  passion,  until  almost  every  thing  else 
was  forgotten  for  its  pleasures.  And  now,  as  the  ser- 
mon closed,  the  thought  of  that  story  rose  before  me. 
Shall  I  read  it?  was  the  mental  question.  I  knew 
that  if  on  my  return  home  I  turned  to  its  pages,  every 
religious  impression  would  be  obliterated  ;  and  during 
all  the  closing  prayer,  during  all  my  walk  home,  the 
strug'gle  was  going  on — and  the  novel  conquered. 
The  voice  of  the  Spirit  was  silenced. 

Blessed  be  God,  it  was  not  for  ever.  Five  years 
after,  after  months,  I  miglit  almost  say  years,  of  con- 
flict and  darkness — darkness  that  might  be  felt,  and 
which  at  times  shut  out  every  earthly  enjoyment,  and 


A   NOVtlL-READER.  -     487 

made  inc  exclaim  in  the  bitterness  of  my  spirit, ''  Would 
I  had  never  been  born,''  1  found,  I  humbly  hope,  peace 
under  the  shadow  of  the  cross.  But  those  lost  years — 
what  would  1  not  give,  what  sacrifice  would  1  not 
make,  could  1  redeem  them.  But  they  are  gone,  with 
their  opportunities  of  doing  and  getting  good — lost 
to  me  for  ever.  It  was  in  some  sense  a  forming  period 
of  my  character.  How  different  should  I  now  be — 
how  much  more  could  I  now  do  for  God  and  my  fel- 
low-beings— how  much  more  might  I  now  be  conform 
cd  to  the  likeness  of  my  Lord,  had  these  years  been 
passed  under  his  training — employed  in  his  service. 
I  can  never  look  back  without  a  pang  upon  that  Sab- 
bath, upon  that  deliberate  rejection  of  the  offers  of 
mercy. 

Is  not  this  history  substantially  that  of  multitudes  ? 
Have  not  thousands  sold  their  birthright  for  the  pleas- 
ures of  novel-reading?  Are  there  not  thousands  more, 
who  have  entered  the  church  of  Christ  shorn  of  their 
best  years  and  their  noblest  energies,  through  the 
same  seductive  influence? 

Christian  parents,  you  love  the  souls  of  your  chil- 
dren ;  your  daily  prayer  is,  that  they  may  be  early 
consecrated  to  the  service  of  their  Saviour ;  guard 
them  then  against  making  fiction  the  food  of  their 
minds.  Do  not  let  them  form  a  habit  which  may  bind 
them  as  with  chains  of  adamant  for  ever,  and  which, 
if  its  power  is  ever  broken,  will  surely  prove  a  clog 
in  their  progress  heavenward.  God's  grace  is  all- 
powjcrful,  but  he  works  by  means.  He  appeals  to  the 
conscience  and  the  heart,  and  whatever  blunts  tlie 
sensiliilities  or  lowers  the  standard  of  duty,  must  les- 
sen the  probability  of  their  conversion.     This,  novel- 


488  SKETCHES  FROM   LIFE. 

reading  docs.  lie  whose  miud  lias  been  excited  l)y 
tlie  high-wrought  scenes  of  fiction,  or  who  has  loved 
to  dwell  on  scenes  of  imaginary  distress,  will  be  but 
slightly  moved  by  the  simple  story  of  the  love  and 
death  of  Jesus.  God's  voice,  speaking  from  Sinai, 
proclaiming  his  immutable  law  and  its  terrible  penal- 
ties, will  be  as  unheeded  as  the  voice  of  love  speak- 
ing from  Calvary ;  for  conscience  too  is  deadened. 
The  standard  by  which  the  confirmed  novel-reader 
measures  his  moral  character,  is  generally  at  best  only 
the  low  standard  of  a  worldly  morality,  from  which 
all  reference  to  our  relations  to  God  is  excluded. 
How  then,  if  his  life  has  been  such  as  the  world  will 
not  condemn,  can  he  be  convinced  of  sin,  of  righteous- 
ness, and  of  judgment?  Like  Felix,  he  may  tremble 
for  a  moment,  but  having  no  true  sense  of  the  majesty 
of  holiness,  or  the  requirements  of  God,  it  will  be  only 
for  a  moment. 

But  even  if  it  be  not  so,  and  there  are  certainly 
many  exceptions — even  if  the  example  and  instruc- 
tions of  pious  parents,  and  the  light  of  God's  truth 
shining  continually  on  his  path,  have  kept  his  heart 
tender  and  his  conscience  alive,  novel-reading  throws 
yet  another  obstacle  in  the  way  of  his  conversion.  If 
not  of  a  temper  naturally  very  active  and  practical,  he 
has  probably  lived  in  a  land  of  shadows  and  dreams. 
He  has  mourned  over  sorrows  he  has  not  been  called 
to  alleviate,  and  has  admired  achievements  which  he 
has  not  thought  of  imitating,  and  so  has  formed  the 
habit'  of  indulging  emotion  which  was  not  to  twmi- 
nate  in  action.  He  has  dreamed  of  glorious  things 
to  be  done,  he  has  formed  magnificent  plans,  but  the 
dream  and  the  plan  were  all.     But  the  religion  of 


THE  FROLIC  IN  PLANTING-TIME.  489 

Clirist  from  its  very  commencement  requires  action. 
"'Strive  to  enter  in;"  "Deny  thyself,  and  take  up  tliy 
cross,  and  follow  me,"  are  the  words  of  our  Lord. 
We  cannot  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven  by  mere 
emotion.  We  must. act  as  well  as  feel.  We  must  not 
only  see  our  sins,  but  strive  against  them.  Now, 
though  the  novel-reader  may  see  his  sinfulness,  may 
have  some  longings  after  the  joys  of  holiness  and  use- 
fulness, and  may  form  some  resolutions  for  good,  the 
probability  is  that  sighs  and  tears  and  resolutions  will 
be  all.  He  sees  the  good  and  approves  it,  but  has 
lost  the  moral  stamina  which  would  enable  him  to 
struggle  against  the  current  of  temptation. 

And  even  if  he  is  brought  at  last  into  the  church 
of  Christ,  how  rarely  is  he  an  active  laborer  in  the 
great  work  to  which  God  has  called  us.  He  sees 
how  much  there  is  to  be  done,  he  envies  those  who 
with  cheerful  and  earnest  spirit  are  engaged  in  it,  he 
makes  some  weak  and  faithless  efforts  to  conquer  his 
easily-besetting  sins,  and  to  combat  evil  around  him, 
but  he  accomplishes  little.  The  strength  of  his  will 
is  broken,  the  power  of  patient  action  gone,  and  he 
will  achieve  little  of  worth  for  himself  or  the  world. 

R. 


TEE  FROLIC   IN   PLANTING-TIME. 

Upon  a  bleak  winter  day,  I  was  travelling  through 
one  of  the  sparsely  inhabited  counties  of  Western 
Kentucky.  A  wretched  log-cabin  near  the  roadside 
attracted  my  attention.  It  stood  in  a  small  field  of 
cleared  land,  surrounded  for  miles  by  the  unbroken 
forest.  There  was  suflBcient  tillable  ground,  if  indus- 
21* 


490  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

triously  cultivated,  to  yield  a  subsistence  for  a  small 
family.  But  it  was  easy  to  perceive  that  the  plough 
and  hoe  had  not  during  the  summer  disturbed  that 
soil.  A  rank  growth  of  weeds,  deadened  by  the  frost, 
covered  the  ground.  I  reined  in  my  horse,  and  re- 
peated to  myself  the  words  of  Solomon,  "I  went  by 
the  field  of  the  slothful,  and  lo,  it  was  all  grown  over 
with  thorns,  and  nettles  had  covered  the  face  thereof." 

There  was  no  window  in  the  hut,  the  space  between 
two  of  the  logs  having  been  left  unchinked  in  order  to 
admit  the  light.  The  roof  was  dilapidated,  the  mud 
chimney  was  leaning  out  from  its  perpendicular,  threat- 
ening soon  to  fall,  the  fences  that  enclosed  the  field 
were  partially  prostrated,  all  giving  evidence  of 
wretched  poverty. 

Impelled  by  a  desire  to  know  something  of  the 
habits  of  a  family  living  in  such  apparent  misery,  I 
alighted  and  entered  the  hovel.  It  was  a  filthy  place. 
In  one  corner,  on  what  seemed  a  pile  of  rags,  lay  a 
miserable  looking  man — the  husband  and  father — 
evidently  sick  unto  death,  and  that  sickness  produced, 
as  might  at  a  glance  be  seen,  by  intemperance.  A 
pale,  sickly  looking  wife,  and  four  ragged,  dirty  chil- 
dren composed  the  household. 

Their  history  is  soon  told.  He  had  neglected  his 
little  farm,  spent  his  time  in  carousing  and  drunken- 
ness, depending  on  his  rifle  to  provide  food  in  winter. 
Dissipation  had  produced  disease.  Death  was  at  his 
bedside  waiting  the  appointed  moment,  and  his  wife 
and  little  ones  were  suffering  for  food.  After  some 
conversation,  in  which  these  facts  were  elicited,  I 
asked  why  he  had  not  raised  corn  and  potatoes  in  his 
clearing. 


THE  FROLIC  IX  PLANTING-TIME.  491 

"Ah,"  said  he,  with  western  frankness,  and  with 
the  honesty  of  a  dying  man,  "I  was  on  a  frolic  all 
planting-time." 

Alas,  thought  I,  a  striking  emblem  is  this  scene  of 
the  conduct  and  condition  of  multitudes,  in  relation 
to  their  spiritual  interests.  How  many  "froflic  away 
their  planting-time,"  without  making  any  provision 
for  the  drear  winter  of  eternity.  Many,  many  when 
they  gaze  upon  death,  wail  with  streaming  eyes  and 
bursting  hearts,  "The  harvest  is  passed,  the  summer 
is  ended,  and  I  am  not  saved." 

If  any  reader  is  living  far  from  God,  let  me  say, 
It  is  now  your  planting-time,  and  as  you  sow  so  shall 
you  reap.  GTod,  in  tlie  dispensation  of  his  grace,  now 
furnishes  you  every  facility  for  securing  your  soul's 
eternal  welfare.  The  Bible,  your  neglected  Bible,  is 
the  infallible  guide  in  the  way  of  life.  Sabbaths, 
your  profaned  Sabbaths,  regularly  interrupt  the  cur- 
rent of  your  worldly  employments,  to  remind  you  of 
eternal  verities.  The  house  of  God,  by  you  unvisited, 
or  visited  unprolitably,  opens  its  door  to  urge  and  en- 
courage you  in  the  path  to  heaven.  Over  the  mercy- 
seat,  erected  in  your  unfrequented  closet,  the  ear  of 
Jehovah  listens  for  your  unoffered  prayers.  The 
affectionate  entreaties  and  importunate  prayers  of 
pious  kindred  and  friends,  by  you  disregarded,  are 
uttered  to  win  and  wean  your  hearts  from  earth. 
Conscience,  your  stifled  and  seared  conscience,  ap- 
proves the  claims  and  commands  of  God,  and  urges 
you  to  obedience.  The  cross,  the  despised  cross, 
planted  in  your  path,  appeals  to  your  grateful  love 
by  reminding  you  of  the  price  paid  for  your  redemp- 
tion.    The    Holy   Spirit,   the   grieved   and    insulted 


492  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

Spirit,  still  whispers  an  assurance  of  welcome  to 
Jesus. 

These  are  obstructions  to  your  ruin,  and  facilities 
for  your  salvation.  You  may  wisely  use  them,  and 
live  for  ever.  You  may  thoughtlessly  neglect  them, 
frolic  a\tay  your  planting-time,  and  be  for  ever  lost! 

Are  you  young?  Youth  is  the  planting-time.  If 
it  pass  away  and  leave  you  unconverted,  the  probabil- 
ity is  that  you  will  be  lost ;  for  mark  and  ponder  this 
truth — few,  comparatively  very  few,  are  regenerated 
after  the  spring  of  youth  is  gone. 

Are  you  of  mature  age?  The  best  portion  of  your 
planting-time  is  over.  The  probabilities  of  your  sal- 
vation are  greatly  lessened  with  every  "passing  year. 
Is  not  eternal  life  worth  one  instantaneous,  earnest, 
agonizing  effort?    Make  that  effort. 

Are  you  in  old  age,  and  impenitent?  Alas,  there 
is  for  you  but  a  bare  possibility  of  gaining  heaven. 
There  have  been  a  very  few  instances  of  conversion 
in  old  age ;  yours  will  be  another,  if  you  now  cast 
yourself  upon  the  mercy  and  merits  of  the  Redeemer. 

How  fearful  the  guilt,  how  insane  the  folly,  how 
tremendous  and  irreparable  the  ruin  of  the  man  Avho, 
careless  of  his  soul's  interests,  frolics  away  his  plant- 
incr-time!  j.  l.  b. 


TOO  LATE. 


I  had  not  seen  my  aged  father  in  nineteen  long 
years.  On  a  beautiful  morning  in  May,  18-47,  I  bade 
farewell  to  my  family,  and  started  upon  a  journey  of 
some  twelve  hundred  miles,  with  a  view,  after  attend- 
ing the  Assembly  in  Richmond,  Va.,  to  pay  one  visit 


TOO  LATE.  403 

more  to  my  only  surviving  parent  before  he  slioukl  be 
called  hence.  But  -when  I  had  arrived  within  one 
and  a  lialf^  days'  travel  of  my  father's  residence,  1 
heard  of  his  death.  I  ■went  and  dropped  a  tear  over 
liis  frcsli  grave,  upon  the 'banks  of  a  beautiful  lake, 
but  him  I  saw  not;  1  was  too  late.  lie  died  in 
peace. 

I  left  my  friends  in  New  Hampshire,  and  proceed- 
ed to  the  city  of  Troy,  New  York,  where  I  formerly 
preached,  and  where  for  eleven  months  I  lived  in  a 
continued  revival  of  religion.  I  was  anxious  to  sec 
dear  friends  whom  I  had  not  seen  in  nineteen  or 
twenty  years.     But  I  was  too  late.     I  found  several 

dear  friends,  but  I  was  anxious  to  see  Mrs.  B , 

and  Mrs.  McC ,  who,  when  I  was  sick  nigh  unto 

death,  had  been,  with  several  others,  like  ministering 

angels.    They  had  recently  died.    Mrs.  McC was 

buried  just  before  I  arrived. 

I  went  to  Saratoga  Springs,  where  I  formerly 
resided,  and  there  met  with  several  dear  friends.     But 

1  was  too  late.     There  was  one,  deacon  T ,  a 

moral  jewel  in  the  church,  whom  I  was  particularly 
anxious  to  see.  He  died  a  little  before  my  arrival, 
while  absent  from  home. 

I  had  left  at  home  a  dear  friend,  Mr.  J.  C , 

extremely  ill.  I  had  long  loved  and  prayed  for  that 
friend  ;  but  he  was  not  pious.  In  point  of  morality, 
amiableness  of  disposition,  usefulness  in  life,  scientific- 
and  literary  acquirements,  and  general  knowledge, 
he  had  few  if  any  equals  in  the  southern  country. 
But  he  had  been  poisoned  by  bad  books  and  sceptical 
associates  in  early  life.  For  years  I  had  been  labor- 
ing, apparently  in  vain,  for  his  salvation.     I  left  him, 


494  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

SO  far  as  I  could  judge,  upon  liis  death-bed,  and  yet  in 
all  the  cheerless  darkness  of  unbelief.  Letters  came, 
saying  he  had  hopefully  renounced  all  dependence 
upon  his  pure  morality,  and  embraced  the  Saviour. 
My  feelings  were  indescrrbable.  I  relinquished  all 
idea  of  visiting  the  falls  or  other  places,  and  started 
for  home,  hoping  to  see  and  to  speak  with  my  friend 
once  more  before  his  death.  In  one  week,  though  I 
rested  on  the  Sabbath,  I  passed  from  the  Springs  in 
New  York  to  A ,  in  Georgia.  But  notwithstand- 
ing this  speed,  I  was  too  late.  My  friend  was  gone — 
his  amiable  and  pious  lady  is  a  widow,  and  his  chil- 
dren arc  fatherless. 

I  once  had  an  acquaintance  in  early  life,  who  pass- 
ed through  the  revival  in  which  I  indulged  a  hope, 
an  open  scoffer.  Not  long- after  the  close  of  that 
precious  season,  A.  S was  seized  with  consump- 
tion. He  gradually  failed,  till  he  at  length  became 
satisfied  that  his  end  was  near.  He  was  horror-strick- 
en at  the  thought  of  dying.  To  think  of  meeting  God 
was  more  than  he  could  bear.  He  entreated  every 
body  around  him  to  pray  for  him.  But  it  seemed  to 
be  tea  late.  The  spirit  of  prayer  was  gone — no  one 
could  pray.  In  deep  anguish  of  mind,  he  cried  out  in 
despair,  "  God  is  determined  to  show  me  no  mercy," 
and  died.     How  many  thousands  there  are  who,  like 

my  friend  A.  S ,  and  like  the  foolish  virgins,  apply 

for  salvation  too  late. 

Said  a  wretched,  dying  nobleman, "  Oh,  if  the  right- 
eous Judge  would  try  me  once  more — if  he  would  re- 
-prieve  and  sjlare  me  a  little  longer,  in  what  a  spirit 
would  I  spend  the  remainder  of  my  days!  Every 
means  of  grace,  every  opportunity  of  spiritual  im- 


A  SECRET  DRUNKARD.  495 

provement,  should  bo  dearer  to  me  than  thousands  of 
gold  and  silver.  But  alas,  why  do  I  amuse  myself 
with  fond  imaginings?  The  best  resolutions  are  now 
insignificant,  because  they  arc  too  late.''  He  contin- 
ued, "I  see  a  sad,  horrible  night  approaching,  bring- 
ing with  it  the  blackness  of  darkness  for  ever." 

Reader,  are  you  unconverted?  take  warning. 
Many  fail  of  salvation,  because  they  seek  too  late. 
May  it  not  be  so  with  you.  n.  h. 


A   SECRET  DRUNKARD. 

At  the  commencement  of  my  ministry,  I  found  a 
family  in  the  congregation  which  interested  my  feel- 
ings very  much.  It  consisted  of  a  husband,  a  wife, 
and  two  or  three  beautiful  children.  The  man  was  a 
mechanic,  industrious  and  prudent.  His  wife  was 
mild,  pleasant,  and  kind ;  and  had  chosen  the  good 
part  which  can  never  be  taken  away. 

Soon  after  my  settlement,  and  while  making  a 
call  upon  the  family,-  the  wife  begged  me  to  take  an 
early  opportunity  of  conversing  with  her  husband. 
"His  mind,"  said  she,  "is  much  troubled  on  the  sub- 
ject of  religion."  This  was  good  news  to  me.  My 
heart,  I  trust,  was  somewhat  alive  to  the  value  of 
souls,  and  I  received  the  intelligence  with  gratitude 
and  delight.  It  was  not  long  before  the  wished-for 
opportunity  was  found.  Our  conversation  was  ten- 
der and  solemn,  and  we  Closed  it  with  earnest  prayer 
to  God  that  his  salvation  might  be  magnified  in  bring- 
ing a  sinner  to  the  knowledge  of  the  truth.  My  feel- 
ings were  deeply  moved,  and  I  looked  for  help  to  the 


496  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

convincing  and  converting  Spirit  of  God.  The  case 
appeared  hopeful.  So  far  as  I  could  judge,  the  man's 
views  of  himself  as  an  offender  against  God  were  cor- 
rect, and  he  was  anxious  to  be  led  in  the  way  of  life. 
He  seemed  to  see  that  nothing  short  of  the  blood  of 
Christ  could  wash  away  his  sins. 

My  heart  was  lifted  up  in  gratitude  to  God.  It 
seemed  as  if  I  were  to  be  made  the  happy  instrument 
of  leading  a  lost  sheep  to  the  fold  of  the  Redeemer. 
I  thought  of  our  feeble  church.  I  thought,  too,  of  the 
wife.  The  conversion  of  her  husband,  so  far  as  we 
could  judge,  was  all  that  was  necessary  to  fill  her  cup 
of  blessing.  I  saw  him  again  and  again.  We  con- 
versed on  the  subject  of  salvation  at  length.  All 
things  appeared  ready.  He  was  like  a  man  whose 
foot  was  on  the  very  threshold  of  the  kingdom  of 
heaven. 

Still,  though  his  seriousness  continued,  he  made  no 
progress.  Often  did  his  wife  entreat  me  with  tears 
not  to  forget  her  husband.  There  was  a  heavy  bur- 
den on  her  heart.  He  would  often  spend  hours  of 
the  night  in  reading  the  Scriptures  and  prayer.  At 
length  I  began  to  feel  discouraged.  I  could  see  no 
advance.  My  heart  whispered  that  perhaps  the  in- 
struction I  gave  him  was  not  explicit  enough,  or  was 
not  evangelical  enough.  This  filled  me  with  agi- 
tation, and  sent  me  often  to  my  knees.  But  after  a 
while  the  mystery  was  explained.  This  anxious  sin- 
ner was  found  to  be  a  secret  follower  of  strong  drink. 
Even  his  poor  wife,  I  believe,  was  ignorant  of  the 
habit  he  was  forming.  This  intelligence  was  astound- 
ing to  every  one.  What  could  I  do  now?  Must  I 
hold  my  peace,  and  leave  my  neighbor,  my  friend,  and 


A  SECRET  DRUNKARD.  497 

my  parishioner  to  perish  ?  I  was  younger  by  several 
years  than  he,  and  I  knew  not  what  to  say. 

After  seeking  wisdom  from  above,  the  path  of  duty 
seemed  plain.  I  felt  that  I  must  go  and  tell  him  all, 
whether  he  would  hear  or  forbear.  This  I  did  with- 
out delay.  In  as  tender  and  serious  a  way  as  was  in 
my  power,  I  said,  "  My  dear  sir,  you  know  what  it  is 
that  keeps  you  from  the  Saviour.  God  knows  it  too. 
I  know  it.  We  have  often  talked  and  prayed  togeth- 
er, and  I  have  been  hoping  to  see  you  come  over  on 
the  Lord's  side.  But  there  is  one  thing  which  you 
must  give  up,  or  lose  your  soul."  I  trembled  while  I 
uttered  these  words.  My  prayer  went  up  to  God 
that  his  Spirit  would  give  success.  I  tried  to  be 
faithful :  how  else  could  I  act,  or  do  ?  One  sin  might 
destroy  the  soul. 

His  countenance  fell  as  I  expostulated  with  him. 
Ho  was  sullenly  silent.  He  seemed  to  be  sorry  that 
the  thing  was  known.  In  vain  did  I  plead  with  him 
to  rise,  and  in  the  help  of  God  break  the  fetters  that 
bound  him.  From  that  day  he  went  rapidly  down. 
The  sequel  is  sad,  but  short.  Bad  became  worse,  un- 
til his  beautiful  house  went  into  other  hands,  his  fam- 
ily was  broken  up,  his  children  scattered,  and  he,  a 
poor  forsaken  man,  was  taken  in  by  his  aged  parents, 
to  be  to  them  a  living  sorrow. 

But  the  end  soon  came,  and  came  in  a  way  to 
make  the  ears  of  every  one  that  hears  it  to  tingle. 
One  Sabbath,  in  cold  weather,  the  venerable  father 
went  to  church,  leaving  no  one  at  home  but  his  feeble 
wife  and  this  wretched  son.  In  the  mean  time  he 
found  access  to  some  liquor  in  the  cellar,  came  up, 
and  fell  in  the  fire.    The  affrighted  mother  could  not 


498  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

pull  him  out.  Before  assistance  could  be  obtained,  he 
was  literally  almost  roasted  alive.  He  breathed  for 
a  few  hours,  but  never  spoke. 

To  me  this  was  teaching  "  terrible  things  in  right- 
eousness." Truly,  thought  I,  God  is  known  by  the 
judgments  which  he  executeth.  When  his  hand  is 
lifted  up  men  will  not  see,  but  they  shall  see.  It  gave 
me  a  fearful  impression  of  the  evil  of  sin  indulged 
and  cleaved  to  when  the  Spirit  is  striving. 

Who  knows  how  many  such  cases  the  light  of 
eternity  may  reveal  ?  It  is  a  fearful  thing  to  grieve 
the  Spirit  of  God.  If,  when  the  mind  is  agitated,  re- 
lief is  sought  anywhere  but  in  the  Saviour  and  the 
Bible,  the  effect  may  prove  fatal.  To  have  recourse 
to  unnatural  stimulus,  may  cost  the  sinner  his  sal- 
vation. 

Let  me  lift  up  the  voice  of  warning.  Sin  must  be 
relinquished — every  sin,  secret  as  well  as  open,  though 
dear  as  a  right  hand  or  a  right  eye,  or  the  joys  of 
pardon  can  never  be  felt.  His  name  is  called  Jesus, 
because  he  saveth  his  people  from  their  sins. 

Pastor. 


STORY   OF   EEAL   LIFE. 

There  is  an  interesting  class  of  the  community  for 
whom  many  a  heart  beats  with  solicitude  and  appre- 
hension. I  mean  the  bright,  ardent,  and  unsuspecting 
youth  just  leaving  the  security  of  a  loved  home,  the 
eye  of  a  watchful  parent,  and  the  sweet  influence  of  a 
sister,  to  be  thrown  at  once  into  all  the  perils  of  a 
merchant's  clerk,  a  mechanic's  apprentice,  or  a  col- 
lege life,  with  no  just  idea  of  the  dangers  which  beset 


STORY  OF  REAL  LIFE.  499 

their  paths ;  or  if  they  are  in  any  measure  aware  of 
them,  without  the  moral  courage  to  resist  them.  I 
would  like  to  specify  many  of  these  clangers,  but  sliall 
now  speak  only  of  one,  the  cheap  and  poisonous  books 
scattered  throughout  the  land.  The  poison  is  so  hid- 
den, so  mingled  with  what  is  alluring  to  the  young, 
that  ruin  is  effected  before  the  victims  are  aware  of 
any  peril.  I  speak  of  those  noxious  books  which  pol- 
lute the  heart,  and  plunge  the  simple  and  unsuspicious 
into  vice  and  infidelity.  I  once  saw  a  living  victim 
of  this  pernicious  reading,  and  such  a  story  may  yet 
be  told  of  many  a  young  man  lost  and  ruined  in  our 
cities. 

One  Sunday  evening,  an  old  servant  came  in  en- 
treating me  to  go  "  into  the  kitchen  and  see  a  wild- 
looking  man  who  asked  permission  to  warm  his  feet." 
Upon  my  entrance  he  looked  up,  but  instantly  turned 
from  me  one  of  the  finest  faces  I  had  ever  seen.  As 
I  drew  near,  I  wondered  not  that  his  feet  were  cold, 
for  the  relics  of  a  tattered  pair  of  boots  hardly  hang- 
ing together  over  the  shreds  that  had  once  been  stock- 
ings, covered  but  a  small  part  of  his  red  and  bruised 
insteps ;  he  wore  the  remains  of  an  old  military  dress 
which  had  been  given  him  ;  still,  there  was  something 
almost  majestic  in  his  appearance,  for  his  head  was  a 
model  for  an  artist,  his  eyes  full  and  soft,  his  features 
all  fine — it  was  a  noble  specimen  of  "  nature's  work- 
mansliip"  in  ruins.  At  first  he  seemed  morose  and 
unwilling  to  be  teased  by  questions  ;  but  he  had  prob- 
ably been  unused  to  words  of  kindness,  for  when  I 
proposed  something  to  make  him  comfortable,  he 
seemed  melted  and  subdued,  and  manifested  tliat  kind 
of  confidence  which  one  feels  among  friends.     The 


500 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 


wickedness  of  wasting  life  so  recklessly  was  repre- 
sented to  him,  till  at  last,  with  a  look  of  indescriba- 
ble woe,  and  with  shuddering  emotion,  he  exclaimed, 
'•  Must  I  disclose  to  you  what  no  one  on  earth  besides 
myself  knows  ?  It  was  revealed  to  me  by  an  un- 
earthly voice  years  ago,  that  I  must  die  tlie  fifteenth 
of  next  July.  1  am  the  victim  of  infidel  books.  I 
have  destroyed  my  own  soul,  and  I  must  die  then,  and 
go  into  eternal  misery." 

At  that  moment  my  father  entered  from  church, 
and  hearing  his  last  words  repeated  with  a  dreadful 
emphasis,  he  said,  *'  Why,  you  should  have  heard  the 


STORY  OF  REAL  LIFE.  501 

sermon  to  which  I  have  bccu  listening  ;  then  you 
would  have  learned  that  it  is  never  too  late  to  re- 
pent," "Oh,"  exclaimed  the  poor  vagrant,  ''you 
know  nothing  about  it ;  there  is  no  repentance  for 
me."  He  discovered  mucli  ingenuity  in  answering 
every  argument  with  appropriate  texts  of  Scripture, 
until  at  last,  as  if  to  escape  from  the  annoyance,  lie 
abruptly  said,  "  I  will  now  disclose  the  revelation  of 
which  I  spoke."  He  then  related  a  dream,  in  wliich 
his  soul  was  doomed  to  hell ;  and  here  lie  was  so 
overcome  with  apparent  horror,  that  we  begged  him 
to  say  no  more  of  his  dream,  but  to  explain  the  cause 
of  his  misery.  He  then  told  us  the  name  and  resi- 
dence of  his  parents,  and  spoke  with  great  emotion 
of  the  piety  and  tenderness  of  his  mother,  whom  he 
had  not  seen  for  eight  years ;  nor  had  she  had  the 
slightest  tidings  from  him  during  that  time. 

When  very  young,  books  were  his  delight,  and  he 
had  access  to  the  foolish  tales  which  vitiate  the  taste 
of  children.  This  excited  a  thirst  for  novels,  which 
being  ill  chosen  and  of  a  demoralizing  character,  led 
him  on  to  other  works  of  infidel  writers.  His  watch- 
ful mother  discovered  his  love  for  this  dangerous  read- 
ing, and  aided  by  his  father's  authority  forbade  the 
indulgence ;  but  as  he  found  means  to  elude  parental 
care,  his  father  resolved  to  place  him  in  the  store  of  a 
pious  man,  whose  eye  would  be  constantly  upon  him. 
However,  he  eluded  even  his  vigilance,  and  found  ac- 
cess to  the  books ;  but  being  detected,  he  could  not 
endure  the  restraint,  and  resolved  to  escape  from  it. 
After  some  difficulty,  he  secreted  himself  in  a  vessel 
bound  to  the  Mediterranean,  and  escaped  tlie  detec- 
tion of  his  master.     From  that  time  he  had  been  a 


502  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

homeless  wanderer  in  foreign  lands.  The  details  of 
his  wanderings  were  thrillingly  interesting,  but  his 
narrative  was  broken  again  by  the  most  touching  ref- 
erence to  his  "dear  mother,"  or  by  the  terrific  tones 
in  which  he  would  cry  out,  "Oh,  those  books — those 
wicked  books!  Oh,  that  Tom  Paine  knew  my  mis- 
ery; my  soul  is  lost,  lost  for  ever!"  We  saw  that 
there  was  but  too  much  reason  to  regard  his  case  as 
hopeless  as  he  considered  it,  and  believing  his  moth- 
er's care  more  essential  than  any  thing  to  his  well- 
being,  we  entreated  him  to  go  to  her  at  once.  Now 
and  then  he  would  promise  to  go  ;  then  again,  with  a 
convulsive  shudder,  he  would  start  as  from  a  distress- 
ing dream,  and  in  a  piteous  tone  repeat,  "No,  no,  I 
cayinot  see  her ;"  and  when  urged  to  follow  the  exam- 
ple of  the  prodigal,  he  would  still  say,  "  No,  no  ;  the 
prodigal  did  not  oppose  his  mother — did  not  go  con- 
trary to  the  wishes  or  without  the  knowledge  of  his 
parents ;  his  misery,  his  guilt  was  not  like  mine — • 
those  books,  those  horrid  books!" 

Could  any  of  those  young  men,  just  entering  tlie 
world,  realize  the  perfect  wretchedness  of  this  poor 
ruined  being,  they  would  as  soon  touch  a  viper  as  a 
questionable  book.  A  fondness  for  reading  has  no 
doubt  secured  many  a  youth  from  ruin,  but  books 
must  be  well  chosen  ;  and  parents  who  expose  their 
children  to  the  influence  of  immoral  and  corrupt  sen- 
timents, no  matter  under  what  guise,  or  whose  exam- 
ple, may  have  their  lives  made  miserable  by  such  a 
son.  E.  M.  c. 


A  NEGLECTED  FAMILY.  503 

A  NEGLECTED   FAMILY. 

S.  R ,  ia  the  year  18 — ,  commenced  liis  pro- 
fession in  a  large  southern  city,  under  very  disadvan- 
tageous circumstances.  He  was  poor  ;  and  the  wants 
of  his  young  family  pressing  hard  upon  him,  in  the 
strength  of  an  indomitable  spirit  he  determined  to  be 
rich.  He  prosecuted  liis  business  with  industry  and 
perseverance.  He  allowed  no  opportunity  to  pass 
uijimproved,  in  the  promotion  of  his  grand  aim.  He 
labored  day  and  night.  He  toiled  all  the  week;  and 
instead  of  refreshing  his  exhausted  frame,  and  com- 
posing his  excited  spirit  with  the  holy  rest  and  privi- 
leges of  the  Sabbath,  at  least  one-half  of  that  precious 
day  was  generally  occupied  by  him  in  attention  to  his 
worldly  affairs,  and  the  other  half  in  sinful  recreation. 

Success  in. the  accumulation  of  wealth  rewarded 
his  incessant  toil.  Dollar  was  added  to  dollar,  and 
house  to  house,  until  he  contemplated  his  possessions 
with  the  exultation  of  one  who  seemed  to  say,  "  Sec 
what  I  have  accomplished !"  In  his  devotion  to  his 
gains,  his  family  enjoyed  little  of  his  society ;  and 
having  the  means,  his  children  were  sent  from  home 
to  be  educated.  Thus  a  stranger  to  his  household,  he 
exercised  therein  but  little  influence  for  good.  His 
children  were  not  restrained  from  dissipation  and 
licentiousness  by  his  occasional  notice  of  their  irregu- 
larities, while  their  fond  mother  supplied  them  secret- 
ly with  the  means  of  self-destruction. 

This  individual,  of  course,  rarely  attended  a  place 
of  worship,  thougli  he  always  rented  a  pew  for  his 
family,  if  tliey  chose  to  occupy  it.  The  minister  of 
the  church  on  one  occasion  reminded  him  of  his  fre- 


504  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

quent  absence  from  his  place,  and  kindly  invited  and 
urged  him  to  attend  regularly.  His  reply  showed 
that  he  was  offended.  He  felt  that  his  duty  was  dis- 
charged by  the  punctual  payment  of  the  pew  rent ; 
and  he  expressed  the  hope,  that  "he  should  not  be 
annoyed  by  any  farther  importunity  upon  a  subject 
for  wliicli  he  alone  was  responsible." 

In  conversation  with  pious  friends,  he  showed 
great  depth  of  feeling,  and  often  appeared  willing  to 
admit  many  truths  of  the  gospel.  But  he  was  effect- 
ually hardened  in  his  opposition  to  God,  by  the  con- 
viction that  among  men  he  was  honest,  and  in  his  pro- 
fession had  been  successful.  Of  this  he  boasted,  and 
upon  this  he  rested.  Pie  repelled,  as  a  personal  in- 
sult, the  idea  that  it  was  the  deep  depravity  of  his 
elated  heart  which  refused  submission  to  the  will  of 
God,  and  excluded  from  his  bosom  all  sense  of  the 
need  of  a  Saviour. 

With  so  great  wealth,  with  such  a  family,  and  in 
such  a  state  of  heart,  what  could  he  be  but  a  miser- 
able man?  And  to  dissipate  the  anxiety  of  his  mind, 
he  devoted  himself  more  and  more  to  his  earthly  gains. 
When  he  reflected  on  the  dissolute  character  of  his 
sons — that  they  were  incompetent  to  assist  him  in  his 
business,  and  could  never  take  his  place  in  his  estab- 
lishment, he  felt  that  they  w^ere  unworthy  of  his  re- 
gard and  friendship;  and  turning  from  them. in  dis- 
gust and  indignation,  he  lavished  upon  strangers  the 
kindness  and  affection  which,  had  he  been  faithful  to 
his  children,  might  have  won  them  from  the  paths  of 
the  destroyer. 

His  increasing  business  at  length  required  fre- 
quent visits  to  Europe.     There  he  saw  much  to  en 


A  NEGLECTED  FAMILY.  f)05 

gage  liis  attention,  and  in  the  companionship  of  the 
gay  and  licentious,  his  aflfections  were  almost  entirely 
estranged  from  his  family. 

Upon  one  occasion  he  left  his  home  for  Europe, 
purposing  to  take  passage  in  a  particular  steamer ; 
but  delaying  a  few  hours  to  attend  to  some  unimpor- 
tant affair,  he  reached  the  wharf  in  time  to  see  the 
stately  vessel  depart  without  him.  The  next  packet 
that  sailed  was  the  ill-fated .  In  her  he  embark- 
ed, and  shared  the  melancholy  end  of  her  lamented 
company.  In  this,  however,  to  the  world  at  large, 
there  appeared  nothing  peculiar.  He  was  lost — all 
on  board  were  lost,  when  the  gallant  ship  found  her 
resting-place  beneath  the  ocean's  stormy  wave.  But 
to  the  friends  who  knew  his  character,  and  had  re- 
marked his  career,  there  was  visible  the  hand  of 
Providence  rebuking  ingratitude  towards  God,  and 
"turning  the  way  of  the  wicked  upside  down."  The 
announcement  of  the  probable  fate  of  the  vessel  filled 
them  with  painful  concern  for  one  whom  on  many 
accounts  they  esteemed,  and  their  grief  was  assuaged 
only  by  the  reflection  that,  in  death  as  in  life,  he,  and 
all  men,  are  in  the  hands  of  a  just  and  merciful  God. 

His  family  were  otherwise  affected.  While  other 
bereaved  persons  were  slow  to  realize  their  affliction, 
and  for  years  cherished  the  undying,  yet  delusive 
hope  that  their  absent  loved  ones  were  safe,  and 
would,  or  at  least  might  return,  this  family  found  no 
difficulty  in  believing  at  once  the  bad  tidings,  and 
seemed  to  be  under  no  apprehension  that  either  the 
vessel  or  the  husband  and  father  and  proprietor 
would  ever  be  heard  of  again.  And  while  others 
"refused  to  be  comforted,"  in  the  confidence  of  better 


50G  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

news,  this  family,  with  indecent  haste,  assumed  the 
habiliments  of  sorrow,  as  it  were  to  invite  the  sympa- 
thy and  consolation  of  their  acquaintance.  As  soon 
as  legal  authority  was  obtained,  the  estate  was  divid- 
ed. And  the  sons,  from  long-continued  habits  of  idle- 
ness and  intemperance,  being  incompetent  to  conduct 
the  large  and  lucrative  establishment,  it  passed  into 
the  hands  of  strangers  on  easy  terms.  From  this 
time  a  melancholy  scene  was  presented.  The  widow, 
sons,  and  daughters,  feeling  themselves  suddenly  eman- 
cipated from  what  they  regarded  domestic  tyranny, 
gave  way  to  the  fatal  imagination  of  enjoying  an  in- 
exhaustible fortune.  Very  soon  were  they  surrounded 
with  mercenary  and  designing /nen&,  who  contrived 
to  absorb  their  income,  as  it  was  eked  out  to  them  in 
protracted  payments.  In  a  few  years  they  were  near- 
ly all  reduced  to  poverty ;  and  in  peculiar  wretched- 
ness, were  "holden  with  the  cords  of  their  sins."  A 
long  time  has  elapsed  since  these  events  ;  yet  their 
family  and  personal  history  form  no  exception  to  the 
experience  of  the  patriarch,  "Who  hath  hardened 
himself  against  God,  and  prospered?" 

How  painful  the  reflection  to  a  parent  who,  in  the 
midst  of  the  toil  and  anxiety  of  accumulating  wealth, 
anticipates  the  rejoicing  of  his  rebellious  children  at 
his  sudden  decease.  Yet  thus  it  must  be  to  the  man 
who,  in  his  service  and  worship  of  mammon,  neglects 
God  and  Christ,  his  household,  and  his  own  soul. 
Parents,  beware  lest  you  commit  this  capital  error. 
Remember,  God  is  not  mocked ;  "  for  what  a  man 
soweth,  that  shall  he  also  reap."  Whatever  be  your 
lawful  calling,  while  you  are  diligent  therein,  seek  not 
first  the  gold  that  perisheth,  but  "  seek  first,"  for  your- 


A  FATHER'S  PRAYER.  50t 

selves  and  your  dear  children,  "  the  kingdom  of  God 
and  his  righteousness,"  and  his  word  is  pledged  to 
add  unto  you  all  else  that  may  be  needful.  Though 
you  accumulate  all  wealth,  and  bequeath  much  sub- 
stance to  your  families,  you  leave  them  poor  indeed, 
if  they  inherit  not  from  you  the  memory  and  the  bless- 
ing of  a  Christian  parent.  Look  around  you  in  the 
world,  and  be  suitably  impressed  with  the  emphatic 
affirmation  which  God's  providence  is  ever  giving  to 
his  own  momentous  declaration,  "  The  curse  of  the 
Lord  is  in  the  house  of  the  wicked;  but  he  blesseth 
the  habitation  of  the  just."  C. 


A  FATHER'S   PRAYER. 

Sad  indeed  may  be  the  consequences  of  a  want  of 
resignation  to  the  will  of  God.  A  few  years  since,  a 
pastor  was  called  to  visit  a  family  where  a  son,  the 
only  child,  was  supposed  to  be  past  recovery,  with 
sudden  illness.  The  parents  were  living*  "  without 
God,  and  without  liope."  As  the  pastor  entered  the 
room,  the  father  said  to  him,  "  Pray  that  my  child  may 
live,  but  do  not  pray  that  I  may  be  resigned  to  the 
will  of  God,  should  he  take  him.  I  cannot — no,  never ; 
he  is  my  only  son.  Pray  that  he  may  live."  Aware 
of  the  responsibility  resting  upon  him,  the  pastor 
offered  a  prayer  in  accordance  with  the  truth  of  God's 
Avord  and  promises  to  the  humble  believer,  in  holy 
resignation  to  his  sovereign  will.  Favorable  symp- 
toms soon  appeared,  and  the  child  recovered.  That 
son  had  an  uncommon  intellect,  was  prepossessing  in 
his  person,  and  received  all  the  advantages  money 


508  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

could  purchase,  but  \vas  an  unwearied  source  of  trial 
and  vexation  to  his  family  and  the  neighborhood.  He 
became  a  reckless  infidel,  a  victim  of  the  most  degrad- 
ing vices,  a  "by-word"  and  a  "reproach."  I  have 
seen  the  grey-haired  father  in  the  street  wringing  his 
hands,  and  mourning  aloud  the  disobedience  and 
ingratitude  of  his  child ;  and  at  last  he  became  de- 
ranged— dying  with  a  bleeding,  broken-heart,  his  life 
sacrificed  by  the  treatment  received  at  the  hands  of 
that  "only  son."  c. 


A  SINNER  OF  FOURSCORE. 

I  was  about  to  take  my  leave,  for  a  season,  of  a 
friend  and  benefactor,  who  was  nearly  fourscore  years 
of  age.  The  conversation,  as  we  drew  near  the  place 
where  I  was  to  take  the  steam-boat,  took  a  religious 
turn,  though  I  did  not  succeed  in  rendering  it  as  per- 
sonal as  was  desirable.  The  boat  was  in  sight  as  we 
reached  tfie  wharf.  "  I  hope,"  said  I,  "  that  I  shall  see 
you  again  in  the  spring." 

"It  is  not  likely,"  said  he,  "that  I  shall  be  living 
in  the  spring." 

"Have  you  no  hope  that  you  are  a  Christian?" 
said  I,  perhaps  too  abruptly,  but  not  without  emotion. 

The  tears  rolled  down  his  cheeks,  and  with  some 
hesitation  he  said,  "  No,  I  don't  know  that  I  have 
any." 

For  a  moment  I  was  too  much  aflFected  by  this 
painful  confession  to  be  able  to  speak. 

"  Don't  you  think,"  said  he,  wiping  the  tears  from 
his  cheek  with  the   back  of  his  toil-hardened  hand, 


"THE  LAST  CALL."  509 

"  that  there  are  some  who  seek  for  religion  all  their 
days,  and  never  find  it  ?" 

I  knew  that  he  referred  to  himself.  During  his 
whole  life,  he  had  been  thoughtful,  and  more  or  less 
interested  on  the  subject  of  religion.  I  suspected  that 
he  thought  it  was  not  altogether  owing  to  himself 
that  he  was  not  a  Christian.  "Have  you  ever  sought 
for  religion  as  earnestly  as  you  have  sought  for  prop- 
erty?" 

"  No,  I  do  not  know  as  I  have." 

"  Can  you  expect  to  gain  eternal  life  and  glory 
with  less  earnestness  of  effort  than  it  cost  you  to  gain 
your  farm  ?" 

He  shook  his  head.  The  boat  was  at  the  wharf. 
I  bade  him  farewell,  and  was  borne  away.  I  watched 
him  standing  on  the  wharf,  and  my  heart  ached  for 
the  aged  sinner,  so  near  to  death's  door,  and  yet  not 
willing  to  seek  with  the  earnestness  which  is  neces- 
sary in  order  to  find. 

I  am  afraid  there  are  many  who  have  an  experi- 
ence similar  to  that  of  this  aged  sinner.  They  should 
remember,  that  those  who  seek  first  the  kingdom  of 
God,  enter  therein,  and  that  the  kingdom  of  heaven 
suffereth  violence,  and  the  violent  take  it  by  force. 
They  should  remember  the  command  of  Christ,  "Strive 
to  enter  in  at  the  strait  gateJ^  I. 


"THE   LAST  CALL." 

Amelia  H was  an  orphan.    In  early  childhood 

her  father  and  mother  died,  and  she  was  left  penniless 
and  without  a  home.     But  Providence  cared  for  her. 


510  SKETCHES   FROM  LIFE. 

She  became  the  member  of  a  pious  family,  where  she 
enjoyed  all  the  advantages  of  a  religious  education. 
She  respected  religion,  and  often  desired  to  be  a  Chris- 
tian. She  frequently  became  anxious  for  the  salvation 
of  her  soul,  but  as  often  her  interest  abated.  It  was 
not  until  she  was  seventeen  years  of  age  that  she 
received  "  the  last  call." 

A  revival  of  religion  was  in  progress,  and  many  of 
the  old  and  young  were  born  again.  Amelia,  among 
the  rest,  was  deeply  anxious  for  herself.  She  attend- 
ed the  prayer-meeting,  meeting  of  inquiry,  and  seemed 
to  use  the  various  means  of  grace  with  earnestness, 
yet  without  coming  to  Christ.  In  the  midst  of  this 
interest  she  proceeded  to  fulfil  an  engagement  of  some 
months  standing,  to  visit  relatives  in  an  adjoining 
state.  Her  friends  advised  her  to  the  contrary,  set- 
ting before  her  the  danger  of  losing  so  favorable  an 
opportunity  to  seek  the  salvation  of  her  soul.  But 
she  thought  that  she  should  continue  to  cherish  her 
serious  impressions,  and  when  she  returned  would 
improve  the  time  to  that  end. 

She  went ;  was  absent  several  weeks.  There  she 
mingled  in  worldly  scenes,  and  lost  her  religious  in- 
terest. She  returned — but,  to  die.  Scarcely  had  she 
reached  home  when  a  violent  fever  prostrated  her, 
and  she  was  brought  to  hear  the  painful  tidings,  "  You 
must  die."  The  reader  can  imagine  her  reflections 
and  despair.  Pointing  to  the  above-named  period, 
when  she  appeared  to  be  almost  a  Christian,  and 
when  the  Spirit  of  God  was  striving  with  her,  she 
said,  "  It  will  do  no  good  to  seek  now ;  that  was  the 
last  call."  Fully  persuaded  that  she  then  grieved 
away  the  Spirit  for  ever,  she  refused  to  use  the  means 


ONE  THING  WANTING.  511 

of  salvation,  and  yielded  to  despair.  For  three  days 
she  lay  tossing  from  side  to  side,  frequently  replying 
to  the  counsels  of  Cliristian  friends,  "  That  ivas  the 
last  call,"  and  finally  sunk  to  the  grave,  hurried  thither 
by  mental  agony,  rather  than  by  bodily  suffering. 
There  was  not  a  moment  after  disease  attacked  her, 
when  she  felt  that  there  was  hope.  She  could  not 
endure  the  voice  of  prayer  at  her  bedside,  nor  listen 
to  the  reading  of  the  sweetest  promises  in  the  Bible. 
In  this  dreadful  state  she  expired,  an  example  of  the 
danger  of  trifling  with  the  Spirit,  and  a  warning  to 
all  who  now  hear  "the  still  small  voice." 

Phocioa. 


ONE   THING  WANTING. 

The  morning  sun  which  ushered  in  the  first  day  of 
1852,  shone  not  on  a  lovelier  circle  than  the  one 
where  dwelt  Helen  Sutton.  Neither  was  the  wish  for 
"  a  happy  New-year  "  more  cordially  or  affectionately 
expressed,  than  by  her.  She  devoted  herself  to  the 
interests  and  happiness  of  that  group,  and  was  their 
delight  and  joy.  Being  the  eldest  child,  and  having 
at  this  time  advanced  to  womanhood,  she  had  much 
influence  over  its  different  members.  Indeed,  she  was 
a  striking  example  of  an  obedient  and  dutiful  child ; 
ever  ready  to  fulfil  the  wishes  of  her  parents,  and  to 
honor  them  in  all  her  ways.  They  have  been  heard 
to  remark,  that  they  had  never  known  her  go  contrary 
to  their  expressed  desires,  or  treat  them  witli  want  of 
respect  or  affection.  What  a  blessing  to  a  liouschold 
is  such  a  child!  It  is  a  perpetual  sunshine,  which  will 
banish  clouds  and  darkness  from  the  abode. 


512  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

But  these  parents  were  Cliristians ;  and  notwith- 
standing their  hearts  safely  trusted  m  this  daughter, 
they  knew  she  lacl^ed  one  thing  to  make  her  valued 
services  acceptable  in  the  sight  of  God,  and  their 
spirits  yearned  over  her. 

When  a  child,  her  amiable  disposition,  united  with 
her  correct  and  praiseworthy  deportment,  blinded  her 
eyes  to  the  necessity  of  the  renewal  of  her  heart  by 
the  Holy  Spirit.  But  at  last,  her  parents  had  the 
happiness  of  seeing  her  mourning  over  the  discovered 
guilt  of  her  inward  life,  and  inquiring  tlie  way  of  ac- 
cess to  Ilini  who  can  wash  away  sin.  She  had  looked 
upon  herself  as  whole,  and  without  need  of  a  physi- 
cian; but  she  now  saw  and  felt  that  she  had  a  stub- 
born will,  that  must  be  bowed  to  God's  will,  and  a 
vile  heart,  that  must  be  cleansed  by  atoning  blood,  or 
she  must  be  miserable  for  ever.  She  conversed  freely 
with  her  parents,  her  Sabbath- school  teacher,  and 
other  Christian  friends,  and  they  began  to  hope  she 
was  "not  far  from  the  kingdom  of  God." 

One  day  she  was  sitting  alone  with  her  mother, 
when  the  danger  of  delaying  to  yield  herself  to  God 
was  so  strongly  impressed  on  her  mind,  that  she  re- 
tired to  lier  chamber  with  the  expressed  determination 
not  to  leave  it  with  an  unsubdued  heart.  Hour  after 
hour  passed,  and  still  she  remained  in  her  room.  At 
length  her  footsteps  were  heard  upon  the  stairs.  Her 
anxious  mother  scarcely  dared  raise  her  eyes  to  her 
child,  but  when  she  did,  she  met  the  sweet  smile  of 
other  days.  "My  dear  Helen,"  she  asked,  "have  you 
found  the  peace  and  joy  of  pardoned  sin  ?"  She 
replied,  "  Oh  no,  mother ;  I  have  tried  to  repent  of 
my  sins,  and  exercise  faith  in  the  Redeemer,  but  I 


ONE  THING  WANTING.  513 

cannot,  and  I  have  concluded  to  give  up  all  such 
efforts,  and  enjoy  myself  again  as  well  as  I  can." 

In  vain  did  that  mother  point  her  to  the  danger- 
ous state  of  one  who  had  spurned  the  Saviour,  and 
resisted  the  Holy  Spirit.  In  vain  did  her  Sabbath- 
school  teacher,  and  other  pious  friends,  urge  her  to 
renewed  application  to  Him,  who  never  sends  the 
earnest  pleader  empty  away.  She  had  decided  on  her 
course,  and  as  if  to  shield  herself  more  surely  from 
Christian  admonition,  her  kindness  and  attention  to 
her  parents  and  other  friends  was  redoubled  and 
untiring. 

This  occurred  many  months  before  the  New-year's 
morning  of  1852,  and  these  parents  were  still  hoping 
and  praying  that  God  would  yet  bless  their  lovely, 
darling  daugliter  with  the  joys  of  his  salvation,  though 
she  discovered  no  disposition  to  seek  it. 

Weeks  rolled  away,  and  spring  began  to  robe  the 
earth  in  its  beauty.  Who  admired  the  opening  season, 
or  gathered  more  of  its  earliest  blossoms  than  Helen? 
But  she  drooped  a  little,  and  fell  sick — not  a  sickness 
to  alarm  her  friends,  or  disturb  her  prospects  of  health 
and  happiness.  Medicine  was  administered.  It  did 
not  produce  the  expected  result.  She  was  restless, 
and  her  mother  bathed  her  temples,  and  soothed  her 
to  repose.  As  she  found  herself  yielding^to  these 
influences,  she  impressed  one  kiss  on  her  mother's 
cheek,  and  fell  asleep.  But  alas,  it  was  a  sleep  from 
which  she  never  awoke!  Nothing  could  arouse  her 
to  consciousness,  and  she  slept  her  life  away.  With- 
out a  word,  or  a  struggle,  she  entered  that  world 
for  which  she  had  before  deliberately  concluded  she 
would  not  then  prepare.  Anna. 

22* 


514  SKETCHES  PROM  LIFE. 

THE  PRICE   OF   A  SOUL. 

Some  years  since,  the  writer  sat  in  the  midst  of  a 
weeping  congregation,  collected  in  a  church  in  one  of 
the  eastern  counties  of  Pennsylvania.  It  was  the 
middle  of  the  week,  but  the  Spirit  of  God  was  abroad 
upon  the  hearts  of  the  people,  and  they  came  willingly 
to  the  sanctuary  of  God.  It  was  solemn  without  the 
walls  of  the  old  church,  for  an  ancient  forest  waved 
around  it,  and  hard  by  the  dust  of  our  fathers  was 
sleeping  ;  and  solemn  within,  for  God's  Spirit  brooded 
over  the  vast  assembly.  A  young  and  earnest  ser- 
vant of  Christ  was  addressing  them  on  the  value  of 
the  soul,  and  well  do  I  remember  how  the  hearts  of 
all  were  thrilled,  and  how  their  tears  started,  at  the 
narration  of  the  following  sad  tale. 

"  A  few  years  ago,"  said  he,  '*  there  was  living  in 
one  of  our  large  cities,  a  young  lady  who  was  the  only 
child  of  wealthy  and  worldly  parents.  She  was  fond 
of  the  gay  pleasures  of  the  city,  and  plunged  into  them 
with  all  the  enthusiasm  of  youth.  Her  gayety,  youfh, 
and  wealth,  were  sure  passports  to  the  highest  circles 
of  fashion,  and  there  she  lived  as  though  there  were 
no  higher  world. 

"  While  thus  living  in  pleasure,  she  was  asked  one 
evening  t)y  a  female  friend  to  accompany  her  to  the 
weekly  prayer-meeting  in  a  church  of  the  city.  There 
the  Spirit  of  God  met  her,  and  awakened  in  her  the 
consciousness  of  sin,  and  bowed  down  her  heart  in 
anguish  at  the  thought  of  her  guilt.  Her  heaviness 
of  spirit  was  soon  discovered  at  home,  and  her  par- 
ents were  in  consternation,  lest  their  beautiful  daugh- 
ter should  leave  the  circles  of  pleasure  for  the  service 


THE  PRICE  OF  A  SOUL.  515 

of  God.  They  besought  her  and  commanded  her  to 
return  to  the  gay  world.  They  surrounded  her  with 
her  fashionable  friends.  But  there  was  a  power  above 
theirs  at  work,  and  she  was  still  stricken  in  heart. 
At  last  those  parents  actually  bribed  her  to  attend  a 
large  party  of  pleasure,  by  the  gift  of  the  richest  dress 
that  could  be  purchased  in  the  city.  She  reluctantly 
consented — went  to  the  festival,  and  returned  without 
one  trace  of  her  religious  emotions. 

"  But  the  joy  of  her  miserable  parents  was  short. 
In  another  week  their  daughter  was  at  the  point  of 
death,  and  the  skilful  physicians  they  summoned,  in 
their  alarm,  could  only  tell  them  that  there  was  no 
hope. 

"  When  this  opinion  was  made  known  to  the  dying 
girl,  she  lay  for  a  few  minutes  in  perfect  silence.  Her 
soul  seemed  to  be  surveying  the  past,  and  looking  into 
the  awful  future.  Then  rousing  herself,  she  ordered 
a  servant  to  bring  that  dress  and  hang  it  upon  the 
post  of  her  bed.  She  next  sent  for  her  father  and 
mother.  In  a  few  minutes  they  stood  weeping  at  her 
side.  She  looked  upon  each  of  them  for  a  time,  and 
then  lifting  up  her  hand,  and  pointing  to  the  dress, 
said  to  each  of  them  distinctly,  and  with  the  terrible 
calmness  of  despair,  '  Father,  mother,  there  is  the  price 
of  my  soul.'" 

0  what  a  disastrous  exchange  was  that.  A  pre- 
cious soul,  with  all  its  hopes  and  aspirations,  its  im- 
mortal powers,  and  high  endowments,  for  a  dress! 
How  infatuated  those  guilty  parents.  How  full  of 
fearful  danger  is  the  strife  against  the  Holy  Ghost. 

Reader,  what  is  the  price  for  which  thou  art  part- 
ing with  thy  soul?  '  M.  B.  G. 


516  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 


A  MEMBER   OF  A  CHOIR. 

"  Mary  is  dying-,  and  wishes  to  see  you  immediate- 
ly," said  one  of  my  parishioners,  as  I  entered  liis 
dwelling  one  delightful  May  morning.  The  earth  was 
beautiful  with  returning  life,  and  the  air  vocal  with 
tlie  sweet  melody  of  birds. 

There  was  nothing  that  looked  like  death  in  the 
world  without,  for  the  winter  was  over  and  gone,  and 
nature  was  crowding  the  spring  with  preparations  for 
a  glad  and  glorious  summer.  Yet  death  had  come  to 
our  little  hamlet,  and  was  claiming  one  of  my  flock, 
whom  I  was  unwilling  to  spare.  Mary,  whose  sweet 
voice  so  often  had  thrilled  me  in  the  songs  of  the 
sanctuary,  the  light  and  the  life  of  that  pleasant  home 
embosomed  among  the  green  hills,  was  about  to  leave 
us,  never  to  return. 

Hastily  summoned  to  her  bedside,  I  followed  the 
weeping  father  to  the  room  where  his  darling  child  was 
struggling  with  disease.  Alas,  it  was  too  true.  I  saw 
at  once  that  the  golden  bowl  was  breaking,  and  that 
the  silver  cord  would  soon  be  loosed.  0  what  a 
change  had  come  over  that  young  and  beautiful  form 
during  a  few  sad  days.  I  scarcely  knew  her,  so  worn 
and  haggard.  But  the  eye  had  not  lost  its  brightness, 
nor  the  voice  its  sweetness,  tliougli  the  bloom  had  fled 
from  the  cheek,  and  the  ruddy  lip  was  swollen  and 
rough. 

In  a  tone  that  startled  every  one  in  the  room,  she 

exclaimed,  "  Oh,  Mr.  B ,  I  am  dying ;  and  what 

will  become  of  my  soul  ?"  I  took  her  cold  and  clam- 
ray  hand,  and  pointed  her  to  Jesus  the  Saviour  of  sin- 


A  MEMBER  OF  A  CHOIR.  517 

ners — in  words  few  and  simple,  opened  to  her  the 
way  of  salvation.  She  heard  me  with  fixed  attention, 
throwing  her  whole  soul  into  her  searching  gaze. 
"  Oh,"  said  she  in  reply,  "  these  things  and  the  eternal 
world  are  so  dark  to  me." 

I  prayed  with  her,  commending  her  to  the  grace 
and  mercy  of  God,  and  soon  she  sunk  into  uncon- 
sciousness, and  I  saw  her  no  more.  But  those  words 
will  long  be  remembered.  I  thought  of  them  as  I 
stood  by  her  cof&n,  in  which  the  sinking  and  decaying 
body  contrasted  strangely  with  the  briglit  and  fra- 
grant May  flowers  which  her  companions  had  plucked 
from  the  fields  and  the  woods  for  her  burial ;  and 
when  the  earth  fell  heavily  upon  that  coffin  in  the 
deep,  damp  grave,  these  dying  words  rung  in  my  ear, 
"These  things  and  the  eternal  world  are  so  dark  to 
me." 

Mary  was  the  child  of  pious  parents,  and  was 
instructed  in  the  truth,  but  her  heart  was  wild  and 
wayward,  and  she  put  far  from  her  all  serious  things. 
She  intended  to  be  a  Christian  some  time,  but  death 
came  suddenly,  and  she  found  herself  all  unprepared. 
Thick  darkness  gathered  around  her  soul,  and  she 
seemed  plunging  into  an  eternal  night.  How  awful, 
when  light  is  most  needed,  to  be  in  the  midst  of  gloom 
so  thick  and  dark. 

The  fearfulness  of  such  a  condition  is  self-imposed. 
The  Lord  Jesus  "hath  brought  life  and  immortality 
to  light."  Through  faith  in  him,  the  mists  that  hang 
about  the  grave  are  broken,  and  eternity  glows  with 
the  light  of  blessedness  and  love.  The  humble  be- 
liever may  instinctively  shrink  from  dying,  dark  films 
may  creep  over  his  eyeballs,  but  his  inner  vision  will 


518  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

be  unclouded,  so  that  he  will  grasp  with  certainty  the 
things  eternal  of  the  kingdom  of  God. 

My  dear  friend,  art  thou  without  Christ  in  this 
dying  world?  O  come  to  him  now,  lest  darkness 
steal  over  thy  soul  when  thou  shalt  die,  and  the  hopes 
of  this  life  perish  in  the  despair  of  a  wretched  eternity. 

Saco. 


•  A   GAY  YOUNG  MAN. 

A  few  years  ago,  I  was  called  to  visit  a  gay  and 
thoughtless  young  man,  then  on  his  sick  and  dying- 
bed,  and  trembling  in  view  of  death  and  eternity. 

Favored  as  he  had  been  with  the  instructions  and 
prayers  of  a  godly  mother,  and  with  the  consistent 
and  eminently  pious  life  of  his  brothers,  yet,  whatever 
he  may  have  felt,  he  had  never  before  manifested  any 
concern  about  his  spiritual  interests.  But  now,  "dis- 
tress and  anguish "  had  come  upon  him ;  "  a  fearful 
looking  for  of  judgment"  filled  his  thoughts,  and  with 
sad  moans  and  cries  and  bitter  tears,  he  lamented  his 
dreaded  doom. 

He  was  told  of  the  infinite  sufficiency  of  Christ's 
atonement  for  all  the  wants  and  woes  of  perishing 
sinners ;  of  his  perfect  willingness  to  receive  even  the 
most  guilty,  the  very  "chief  of  sinners,"  of  the  "  dying 
thief,"  etc.,  to  all  which  he  listened  ;  but,  interrupting 
the  speaker,  he  said, 

"  It  is  of  no  use  to  offer  the  gospel  to  me  ;  it  is  too 
late  now.  I  do  not  doubt  that  some  might  embrace 
the  gospel  on  a  death-bed  and  be  saved,  but  I  cannot  ; 
for  I  passed  the  turning-point  in  the  wrong  direction 
two  years  ago.     You  remember  the  revival  at  0 , 


A  GAY  YOUNG  MAN.  519 

two  years  ago  this  summer  ;  you  know  I  was  there, 
and  it  was  the  most  solemn  place  I  ever  was  in  ;  every 
one  seemed  to  be  interested  in  religion,  and  then  I 
felt  that  the  time  had  come  for  me. 

"The  text  on  Sabbath  morning  was,  'I,  if  I  be 
lifted  up,  will  draw  all  men  unto  me ;'  and  Oh,  I  felt 
that  powerful  drawing,  and  determined  that  day  to 
seek  the  Lord.  At  the  close  of  the  service,  an  invi- 
tation was  given  to  all  who  were  concerned  on  the 
subject  of  religion,  to  remain  for  the  purpose  of  receiv- 
ing instruction,  and  for  prayer.  I  resolved  to  accept 
the  invitation,  and  arose  and  walked  towards  the 
pulpit,  when  I  saw  an  old  companion  gazing  and  smil- 
ing at  me.  I  could  not  bear  his  taunts,  and  turned 
into  a  cross  aisle  and  went  out  of  the  house. 

"  Then  I  broke  asunder  the  cords  of  Christ's  love, 
and  preferred  this  world  to  Christ  and  heaven.  I 
have  never  felt  those  drawings  since,  and  believe  that 
my  turning-point  was  then  a.nd  there,  when  I  stood 
hesitating  in  that  aisle.  I  took  the  broad  road ;  I 
chose  death  ;  and  now.  Oh,  now  I  have  got  it ;  I  be- 
gin to*feel  it;  the  darkness  of  the  pit  enshrouds  my 
soul ;  the  fires  of  perdition  are  burning  me  up :  0 
God,  0  God!" 

I  tried  to  pray  with  him,  but  so  great  was  the  ter- 
ror of  his  mind,  that  his  outcry  of  despair  repeatedly 
drowned  my  voice.  In  a  few  hours  the  fever  settled 
on  his  brain,  and  the  poor  young  man  left  this  world 
in  a  raving  delirium. 

Dear  reader,  are  you  unreconciled  to  God?  0, 
take  the  solemn  warning  and  reproof  that  this  case 
presents.  "  Wisdom  crieth  aloud,  saying.  Turn  ye  at 
my   reproof."      How   often,   when    listening  to   the 


520  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

preaching  of  the  gospel,  have  you  felt  the  divine 
drawings?  As  often  have  you  turned  into  the  "broad 
way."  Beware,  beware  ;  you  too  "may  pass  the  turn- 
ing-point in  the  wrong  direction,  and  if  you  do,  all 
will  be  lost  for  eternity.  j.  d.  m. 


THE  AGONY  OF  DESPAIR. 

Not  long  since,  in  one  of  our  northern  cities,  when 
the  influences  of  the  Holy  Spirit  had  been  descending 
on  many,  a  father  called  on  me  and  stated  that  his 
son  was  in  great  distress,  and  anxious  to  see  me. 

I  immediately  accompanied  the  father,  and  on 
entering  the  young  man's  chamber,  found  him  lying 
upon  the  bed,  with  his  face  turned  from  the  door, 
engaged  in  audible  prayer.  He  did  not  at  first  ob- 
serve us,  and  continued  his  entreaties  that  God  would 
have  mercy  upon  him. 

The  father  spoke  ^to  him,  and  directed  his  atten- 
tion towards  me,  and  on  taking  his  hand  I  asked  him 
if  he  was  sick.  He  replied,  "Oh  sir,  my  body  is  well 
enough,  but  my  soul  is  sick.  I  am  in  the  greatest 
distress  on  account  of  my  sins,  and  am  unable  to  obtain 
any  relief.  I  fear  that  I  have  committed  the  unpar- 
donable sin." 

I  asked  him  what  he  had  done  that  caused  him 
such  sorrow.  "  I  have,"  he  replied,  "  opposed  the 
revival,  and  made  sport  of  the  young  converts,  and 
tried  to  keep  my  companions  away  from  the  inquiry- 
meeting;  and  I  feel  as  though  God  would  never  for- 
give me."    As  he  uttered  these  last  words  his  eyes 


THE  AGONY  OF  DESPAIR.  521 

filled  with  tears,  and  he  appeared  to  be  in  deep  an- 
guish. 

I  said  to  him,  "  My  young  friend,  it  is  not  surprising 
that  such  reflections  distress  you,  but  still  God  may 
have  mercy  upon  you."  "  Ah,  there  is  no  mercy,  no 
mercy  for  me.  I  have  sinned  against  such  light  and 
such  privileges,  and  so  long  resisted  the  strivings  of 
tlie  Spirit,  that" — here  his  emotions  overcame  him, 
and  he  was  unable  to  proceed.  I  referred  him  to  the 
thief  on  the  cross  whom  the  Saviour  pardoned,  and 
dwelt  upon  the  freeness  and  fulness  of  the  atonement. 
1  recited  those  precious  passages  of  Scripture  wherein 
the  weary  and  heavy-laden  are  invited  to  come  to 
Christ,  and  all  are  urged  to  partake  of  the  water  of 
life.  But  nothing  that  I  could  say  seemed  to  move 
the  mountain-weight  that  was  crushing  his  soul.  I 
asked  him  if  I  should  pray  with  him.  "  Oh  yes,"  he 
replied,  "  do  pray ;  pray  earnestly  that  I  may  not 
eternally  perish. '  I  did  so  ;  and  while  pleading  for 
divine  mercy,  his  suppressed  groans  indicated  his  deep 
distress,  and  the  struggles  of  his  spirit  to  be  released 
from  the  pangs  of  remorse. 

On  leaving  him  I  promised,  at  his  earnest  solicita- 
tion, to  call  the  next  day.  With  an  anxious  heart  I 
again  visited  him,  and  found  that  his  distress  had 
rather  increased  than  diminished,  and  he  seemed  very 
feverish  and  much  debilitated.  He  had  passed  a 
sleepless  night,  and  been  most  of  the  time  pleading 
with  God  for  mercy.  He  had  no  inclination  to  take 
either  medicine  or  food,  for  his  mind  was  absorbed  by 
one  overwhelming  thought,  the  awful  danger  to  which 
his  soul  was  exposed.  I  endeavored  to  soothe  him, 
and  again  prayed  with  him. 


522  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

The  following  day  lie  seemed  almost  in  despair, 
and  his  fever  raged  with  violence.  The  intensity  of 
his  feelings  was  evidently  consmning  his  very  vitals. 
He  tossed  from  side  to  side,  and  pleaded  with  me  to 
pray  for  him.  Again  I  complied  with  his  entreaties, 
and  I  used  every  argument  to  persuade  him  to  put  his 
trust  in  the  Saviour,  and  endeavor  to  compose  his 
mind. 

While  addressing  him,  I  could  not  but  think  of  the 
hundreds  and  thousands  of  impenitent  sinners  whom, 
instead  of  laboring  to  soothe,  we  in  vain  strive  to 
arouse — whom  the  most  solemn  appeals  from  the  pulpit, 
and  the  mosfawful  warnings  of  God's  providence,  fail 
to  move.  Could  some  of  them  have  stood  by  the  bed- 
side of  this  despairing  youth — could  they  have  wit- 
nessed his  agony,  and  heard  his  cries,  and  seen  the 
power  of  irreligion  to  blast  his  hopes,  they  would  have 
felt  that  it  was  no  light  matter  to  despise  the  Saviour, 
and  treat  with  contempt  the  strivings  of  the  Spirit. 

The  next  day  the  young  man  seemed  more  com- 
posed, but  before  night  such  was  the  violence  of  his 
fever  that  reason  was  dethroned.  He  did  not  recog- 
nize me  when  I  entered  the  room.  His  emaciated 
form  and  wildly  glaring  eye  and  flushed  countenance, 
all  told  the  sad  tale,  that  he  held  his  death-summons 
in  his  hand ;  and  indeed,  before  the  week  closed,  his 
spirit  had  taken  its  everlasting  flight. 

Reader,  did  you  ever  make  sport  of  a  companion 
for  being  interested  in  the  welfare  of  his  soul,  or  re- 
gard with  contempt  the  means  which  God  has  pro- 
vided and  appointed  for  the  salvation  of  man?  If 
you  have,  then  remember  the  death-bed  scene,  the 
cries  and  tears  and  groans  of  this  young  man.    If  you 


A  MOURNFUL  RETROSPECT.  523 

are  resolved  to  neglect  religion  yourself,  I  beseech 
you  not  to  throw  obstacles  in  the  way  of  others  who 
seem  inclined  to  turn  their  faces  towards  heaven. 
Spare  your  own  soul  the  anguish  of  feeling  that  you 
have  dragged  others  with  you  down  to  the  gates  of 
death.  R.  w.  c. 


A  MOURNFUL   RETROSPECT. 

During  a  season  of  special  religious  interest  in 
one  of  our  New  England  colleges,  the  youth  who  had 
consecrated  themselves  to  the  service  of  Christ  were 
roused  to  renewed  zeal  and  fidelity.  Groups  of  pray- 
ing students  were  often  assembled  to  give  thanks  for 
the  renewing  mercy  of  God  so  abundantly  bestowed 
upon  them,  and  to  entreat  that  none  of  their  uncon- 
verted associates  might  be  passed  over  in  this  gracious 
visitation. 

As  Edward  L ,  a  youth  of  devoted  Christian 

character,  was  passing  through  the  hall,  on  his  way 
from  the  evening  prayer-meeting  to  his  room,  Harry 
H joined  him,  and  seizing  the  arm  of  his  class- 
mate, abruptly  addressed  him  :  "  L ,  do  you  believe 

the  Bible?"     "  I  do,"  was  the  brief  decided  response. 

"It  cannot  be,"  said  H ,  "or  you  would  have 

warned  me  of  my  guilt  and  danger ;  you  would  have 
labored  to  pluck  me  as  a  brand  from  the  burning. 
For  months  we  have  met  almost  hourly,  you  a  pro- 
fessor of  religion,  I  an  acknowledged  unbeliever,  yet 
you  have  never  spoken  a  word  to  me  on  my  spiritual 
interests.  If  there  is  any  truth  in  the  doctrines  you 
hold,  if  the  book  which  you  call  the  inspired  word  of 
God  contains  any  thing  worthy  of  belief,  you  have 


52i  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

grossly  neglected  your  duty,  you  have  sinned  fearfully 
against  my  soul.  I  will  trouble  myself  no  more  about 
these  matters.  My  prospect  for  a  long  life  is  as  good 
as  any  one's ;  I  will  enjoy  it  while  I  may,  and  the 
future,  if  there  be  a  future,  must  care  for  itself  A 
month  ago  I  might  have  been  a  Christian ;  but  that 
is  past,  and  now  it  will  never  be." 

The  last  wordfe  were  uttered  in  a  low,  solemn 
tone,  and  the  speaker  withdrew  his  arm,  and  retired 
to  his  own  apartment.  His  ready,  sarcastic  wit  had 
deterred  more  than  one,  anxious  for  his  welfare,  from 
speaking  to  him  on  personal  piety,  and  now  he  dared 
the  vengeance  of  God.  Having  graduated  with  honor, 
he  passed  through  a  course  of  professional  study ;  all 
his  future  seemed  bright ;  but  on  the  very  opening  of 
a  brilliant  career,  the  heavy  hand  of  disease  was  laid 
upon  him,  and  in  the  strength  and  beauty  of  early 
manhood,  he  sunk  beneath  its  power.  His  aged  and 
pious  parents  sorrowed  over  their  gifted  only  son  as 
those  without  hope,  for  he  had  scorned  the  mercy 
proffered  to  his  youth,  and  on  a  dying-bed  he  had 
none  to  sustain  him. 

Edward  L — —  became  a  devoted  and  successful 
preacher  of  the  gospel ;  but  though  many  years  elapsed 
since  he  parted  from  his  class-mate,  ho  never  recalled 
that  evening's  conversation  without  a  thrill  of  horror. 

E.  H. 


A  CIDER-DRINKER. 

In  the  early  settlement  of  Pennsylvania,  three 
men  of  the  same  name  came  from  Connecticut,  and 
settled  in  a  row  along  a  mill-stream.     They  all  com- 


A  CIDER  DRINKER.  h25 

nienced  alike  in  the  woods  "by  putting  up  tlicir  log- 
cabins  and  felling  the  trees,  clearing  the  land,  and 
tilling  the  soil  as  fast  as  they  obtained  an  opening  for 
culture,  and  seemed  to  have  an  equally  fair  prospect 
of  comfort  and  usefulness  in.  the  future. 

One  of  them  was  a  member  of  a  Congregational 
church,  and  lived  to  see  all  his  ten  children  professors 
of  religion. 

Another  was  a  Methodist,  and  had  the  confidence 
and  respect  of  the  community  for  his  intelligence, 
piety,  and  stability  of  character.  lie  too  lived  to  see 
all  his  children  professors  of  religion,  and  one  son  a 
preacher  of  the  everlasting  gospel. 

The  third  was  ''riot  so."  Like  the  survivor  of  the 
deluge,  he  "began  to  be  a  husbandman,"  and  planted 
an  orchard  and  drank  the  cider,  "and  was  drunken." 
He  had  no  children.  The  little  fatherless  boy  that 
he  obtained  from  a  distance,  ran  away  from  him  as 
from  a  monster  of  brutality,  when  twelve  or  thirteen 
years  of  age ;  and  that  boy  and  his  twin-brother  af- 
terwards proclaimed  the  gospel  in  the  Methodist  con- 
nection. More  than  once  this  man  fell  into  the  stream 
near  which  he  lived,  by  the  influence  of  his  "good  old 
cider,"  as  it  was  termed.  On  one  occasion  two  of 
his  boon  companions  took  him  out  of  the  creek,  when 
his  life  was  nearly  wasted  by  strangling.  So  great 
was  their  alarm  at  this  revolting  spectacle,  that  they 
immediately  quitted  a  practice  so  destructive  and 
unbecoming  a  man.  But  Mr.  continued  cider- 
drinking.  And  while  his  nciglibors  of  his  name  sup- 
ported their  numerous  families  genteelly,  and  sup- 
ported society  also,  and  had  put  up  comfortable  framed 
dwellino-s,  his  cider-drinking  habits  constrained  him 


52G  SKETCHES   FROM  LIFE. 

to  remain  in  his  log-house,  though  it  was  sinking  be- 
neath its  own  weight  by  decay.  After  a  long  time, 
however,  he  began  to  build,  but  on  a  plan  so  large 
and  ill-adapted  to  the  size  of  his  family  and  the  length 
of  his  purse,  that  he  "  was  not  able  to  finish."  Luke 
14  :  30. 

His  habit  gained  so  rapidly  upon  him  that  he  could 
not  finish  his  house,  though  he  finished  his  work  of 
suicide.  Delirium  tremens  seized  him  at  times.  Fi- 
nally, his  end  was  as  public  as  awful.  He  had  gone 
to  a  camp-meeting  on  a  neighbor's  field.  There  he 
was  seized  with  the  delirium  tremens,  and  ran  away 
in  a  paroxysm  of  insanity,  shouting  and  crying,  and 
alarming  his  acquaintances.  He  hastened  through 
the  standing  corn,  and  slunk  away  through  all  the 
rooms  of  a  neighbor's  capacious  house,  to  one  most 
retired  and  secluded;  and  there  begging  the  neigh- 
bors who  had  followed  him,  to  keep  the  devils  off,  and 
slapping  himself  violently  with  both  his  hands,  crying 
out  with  the  most  acute  pain,  "The  bees  are  stinging 
me  to  death,"  he  died  of  mortification,  an  awful  warn- 
ing against  intemperance,  which  the  by-standers  can 
never  forget ;  no,  never,  never. 

Resist  the  beginnings  of  intemperance.  Ycnture 
not  on  the  first  drop.  One  man  I  knew  to  fall  on  his 
face  in  the  dusty  road,  and  strangle  with  the  dust. 
Another,  not  thought  to  be  intemperate,  six  months 
after  he  commenced  tavern-keeping,  died  of  mania  a 
potu,  leaving  a  wife  and  five  or  six  children  in  poverty 
and  want.     0  beware  of  the  intoxicating  cup. 

D.  c. 


A  YOUNG  NOVEL-READER.  527 

A  YOUNG   NOVEL-KEADER. 

Charles  F was  an  orphan  boy.     When  but 

cloven  years  old,  he  was  taken  by  his  guardian  to  a 
clergyman  in  a  New  England  village,  to  bo  fitted  for 
college.  He  was  a  boy  of  uncommon  talents ;  his 
manners  were  winning  and  gentle,  his  voice  was 
sweet,  his  disposition  generous ;  and  he  early  mani- 
fested a  contempt  of  danger  and  a  power  of  endurance 
rarely  to  be  seen  in  a  child. 

But  he  was  a  novel-reader.  He  had  read  all  tho 
Waverly  novels,  and  many  of  Marryatt's,  before  he 
was  eleven  years  old,  and  their  effect  was  apparent. 
He  had  no  taste  for  other  reading,  and  no  taste  for 
study.  The  life  of  an  adventurer  was  the  only  life  he 
seemed  to  desire.  It  was  in  vain  that  the  clergyman 
sought  to  divert  his  mind  into  a  better  channel ;  and 
in  vain  that  his  wife,  with  a  mother's  kindness  and 
aifcction,  labored  for  his  good.  He  was  mild  and 
lovely ;  but  he  had  chosen  his  path  in  life,  his  plans 
were  matured,  and  nothing  could  deter  hira  from  his 
purpose.  He  remained  three  years,  and  all  the  fam- 
ily became  greatly  attached  to  him.  They  loved  him 
for  his  amiable  qualities,  and  because  he  was  an  or- 
phan. Perhaps,  too,  they  loved  him  more  on  account 
of  their  fears  for  him. 

Alas,  those  fears  were  soon  realized.  One  morn- 
ing he  was  missing.  Hours  passed,  and  he  did  not 
return.  Days  passed,  and  then  they  heard  of  him  by 
the  scacoast ;  and  then,  that  he  had  become  a  sailor. 

Many  were  the  lamentations  over  the  poor  child 
who  had  so  early  made  himself  a  wanderer  and  an 
outcast.     His  name  could  not  be  mentioned  without 


528  SKETCITES  FROM  LIFE. 

calling  forth  sighs  from  the  members  of  the  family  he 
liad  left ;  and  often,  in  the  long  winter  evenings,  as 
they  sat  around- the  cheerful  fire,  they  talked  of  poor 
Charles,  and  wondered  upon  what  part  of  the  wild 
ocean  he  was  then  tossing. 

Once  they  heard  from  him,  that  he  wished  himself 
back  among  them ;  and  again,  tliat  he  had  become 
reckless  and  bad ;  his  gentle  manners  had  quite  for- 
saken him  ;  he  was  no  longer  the  thoughtful,  romantic 
boy,  but  was  fast  growing  up  to  be  a  bold,  abandoned 
man.     Novels  had  accomplished  their  work. 

Five  years  passed  away,  and  one  summer  morning, 
as  the  family  were  sitting  together  in  their  pleasant 
parlor,  a  low  and  feeble  knock  was  heard.  On  open- 
ing the  door,  a  young  man  entered,  and  sunk  into 
the  first  chair  that  presented  itself.  One  glance  Avas 
sufficient  to  show  that  he  was  in  the  last  stage  of 
consumption ;  the  next,  and  they  recognized  Charles 
F .  "  My  poor  boy,'"'  exclaimed  the  mother,  throw- 
ing her  arms  about  his  neck,  and  bursting  into  tears. 
All  wept  except  the  prodigal  himself,  and  he  only 
compressed  his  lips  and  became  more  pale. 

At  length  one  said  to  him,  "  You  can't  think  how 
we  mourned  for  you,  Charles,  when  you  went  away." 

"It  was  the  worst  day's  work  I  ever  did,"  was  his 
repl}'^  in  a  subdued  voice. 

But  Oh,  the  fearful  change  that  five  short  years 
had  wrought  in  him.  He  had  grown  prematurely  old. 
Scarcely  a  trace  remained  of  the  once  beautiful  boy, 
except  in  his  large  dark  eyes.  His  countenance  ex- 
pressed unspeakable  woe  and  despair.  He  knew  that 
he  must  soon  die,  and  felt  that  he  was  not  prepared. 
"It  is  too  late,"  he  said.     "I  have  tried  in  vain  to  fix 


A  YOUNG  NOVEL-READER.  529 

my  mind  on  serious  things.  I  Lave  been  very  wicked  ; 
it  is  too  late."  "  Oh  no,"  they  answered ;  "  it  is  never 
too  late  while  life  lasts ;  the  merits  of  Christ  are  all- 
suflficicnt ;  cast  yourself  on  him."  He  shook  his  head 
mournfully,  and  again  replied,  "It  is  to«  late  for  me" 

In  this  state  of  mind  he  went  to  reside  with  a 
physician,  and  once  more  left  his  early  home,  never  to 
return.  They  had  put  into  his  hands  the  "Pastor's 
Sketches,"  by  the  late  Rev.  Dr.  Spencer,  referring  him 
particularly  to  the  story  of  "The  Young  Irishman," 
and  lie  promised  to  read  it.  No  more  could  be  done 
for  him  now,  except  to  commend  him  to  God,  with 
whom  "all  things  are  possible." 

A  few  days  afterwards,  as  the  family  were  sitting 
at  dinner  and  talking  about  the  unhappy  boy,  the 
book  was  returned.  A  note  came  with  it  from  a  mem- 
ber of  the  pliysician's  family  with  whom  he  had  been 
placed.  He  had  requested  that  it  might  be  sent  to 
the  clergyman,  with  his  "kind  regards."  And  he 
was  dead.  He  had  been  left  alone  for  a  few  moments, 
when  he  burst  a  bloodvessel,  and  died  suddenly.  No 
one  knew  to  whom  his  last  thoughts  were  given,  or 
what  had  become  of  the  undying  soul.  "  He  died, 
and  made  no  sign." 

So  sunk  into  the  grave,  in  his  nineteenth  year,  one 
who,  but  for  the  corrupting  influence  of  bad  books, 
might  have  lived  a  long  and  happy  life,  an  ornament 
to  his  country,  and  a  blessing  to  all  around  him. 
And  I  wish  that  all  who  print,  circulate,  or  read  such 
ruinous  writings,  could  but  look  upon  that  orphan's 
grave,  and  hear  his  history.  s. 


23 


530  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

THE    LAST   REBUKE. 

la  1831,  there  were  nine  powder-mills  on  the 
banks  of  the  pleasant  stream  which  flowed  through 

the  village  of  ^ .     In  one  of  them  worked  a  young 

man  named  Luman  C .  He  had  enjoyed  a  com- 
mon-school education,  and  his  religious  training  had 
not  been  wholly  neglected.  In  his  new  employment, 
exposed  to  recklessness,  profaneness,  and  intemper- 
ance— too  common  vices  with  those  engaged  in  pur- 
suits of  unusual  danger — he  soon  became  corrupted, 
and  practised  these  evil  habits,  and  in  the  end  he  was 
a  proselyte  to  Universalism,  which  was  advocated 
with  extraordinary  zeal  by  several  of  his  companions. 
His  profanity  increased  with  the  growth  of  his  zeal. 
He  boarded  with  a  plain,  pious  woman,  who  had  no- 
ticed, not  without  pain,  the  downward  career  of  the 
young  man.  One  Sabbath  she  kindly  said  to  him, 
"  Come,  Luman,  come  to  meeting  with  me  to-day." 
His  reply  startled  the  good  woman :  "  I  'd  sooner  go 
to  hell." 

Near  these  powder-mills  was  a  grist-mill,  tended 

by  a  pious  miller  known  as  "Deacon  F ."     One 

day  young  C ,  seeing  some  children  playing  on  the 

bank  of  the  stream  near  the  grist-mill,  commenced 
talking  in  a  tone  so  depraved  and  with  words  so  pro- 
fane, that  the  children  ceased  their  play  and  looked 
at  him  in  terror.  The  miller  gently  remonstrated, 
saying,  "Such  language  is  dreadful  at  any  time,  but 
before  children  it  is  shocking  ;  if  you  have  no  regard 
for  their  morals,  take  care  lest  God  bring  you  to  judg- 
ment for  this  thing." 

"  See  here,  deacon  F ,  I  want  none  of  your 


THE  LAST  REBUKE.  531 

preaching.  You  take  care  of  yourself,  and  I  '11  take 
care  of  myself.     When  I  want  your  services  I  '11  tell 

you."     Thus  enraged,  young  C returned  to  the 

powder-mill. 

This  was  about  mid-day.  A  few  moments  after- 
wards a  dead,  dull  sound  went  rumbling  up  the  stream. 
It  caught  the  ear  of  the  miller,  and  his  soul  sunk  with- 
in him  as  he  beheld  a  dark  cloud  of  smoke  and  black 
fragments  scattered  everywhere.  A  little  spark  had 
done  the  work — the  mill  had  exploded.     Poor  Luman 

C .     The  explosion  had  parted  the  building  and 

opened  the  roof,  carrying  the  profane  swearer  high 
through  the  opening  into  the  air,  and  throwing  him 
some  distance  into  the  mill-pond.  The  miller  was 
the  first  to  see  the  young  man  struggling,  and  ran  to 
his  aid.  When  the  shore  was  gained,  what  a  pitiful 
sight,  and  how  changed  the  poor  creature's  words 
from  what  they  were  a  few  minutes  before.     "  0,  Mr. 

F ,  I  'm  a  dead  man.     Pray  for  my  soul." 

Quick  as  possible  he  was  carried  home  and  a  phy- 
sician brought.  On  account  of  his  distress,  the  suffer- 
ing man  could  not  lie  down.  His  strength  of  frame 
and  voice  was  unimpaired.  He  sat  on  the  bedside, 
black  as  a  coal^  the  skin  from  his  face  and  arms  strip- 
ped away,  all  except  two  callous  bunches  hanging 
from  the  palms  of  his  hands.  And  yet  he  spoke  not 
a  word  of  his  bodily  sufferings.  It  was  the  agony  of 
the  immortal  spirit  which  absorbed  his  thoughts,  his 
feelings,  and  his  fears.  Sitting  there,  his  dark  fea- 
tures distorted  with  intensity  of  pain,  and  his  hands 
extended,  he  spoke  to  his  fellow- workmen,  and  espec- 
ially those  whose  wrong  principles  had  poisoned  his 
mind. 


532  SKETCHES  FROM   LIFE. 

"  See  me,  I  am  going  away,  and  Oh,  it  is  a  lie  that 
there  is  no  punishment  after  death.  I  know  it,  I  see 
it,  I  feel  it  already.  God  have  mercy  on  me!  0, 
don't  believe  these  things.  I  tried  to  believe  them, 
and  Oh,  they  have  deceived  me.  Don't,  don't  believe 
them ;  there  is,  0  yes,  there  is  a  hell !  I  was  afraid 
they  would  prove  false,  and  Oh,  they  have  betrayed 
me." 

Such  preaching  melted  all :  even  his  profane  com- 
panions were  awed  and  trembled.  He  then  looked 
on  the  minister  with  such  an  imploring  look,  it  went 
to  the  pastor's  soul.     To  another  present,  who  was 

weeping,  lie  said,  "0,  deacon  F- ;  pray  God  to 

have  mei'cy  on  me.  0,  pray  that  God  will  forgive 
me.  0  God — 0  Jesus,  have  mercy,  have  mercy !" 
Thus  the  night-shadows  fell  upon  the  poor  sufferer, 
and  poor  Luman  with  a  groan  entered  the  "  dark  val- 
ley," and  set  out  to  meet  his  God. 

Reader,  be  honest  with  your  soul.  Are  you  hug- 
ging a  delusion?  Perhaps  friends  have  warned,  and 
you  have  scoffed ;  the  Holy  Spirit  has  reproved,  and 
you  "have  spoken  stout  words  against  him."  Mai. 
3  :13.  Are  you  grasping  a  lie  in  your  right  hand? 
Abandon  it  now,  or  it  will  by  and  by  betray  tliee. 
Shun  it  ere  it  prove  thy  ruin,  for  "  he  that  being  often 
reproved  hardeneth  his  neck,  shall  suddenly  be  de- 
stroyed, and  that  without  remedy."    Prov.  29  : 1. 

s.  L. 


KESISTING  THE  HOLY  SPIRIT. 

Some  years  ago  there  was  an  interesting  revival 
of  religion  in  the  place  where  I  now  labor  in  the  min- 


RESISTING  THE  HOLY  SPIRIT.  533 

istry.  In  one  school-district,  the  members  of  tho 
church  were  much  engaged,  in  connection  with  the 
pastor.  Not  a  few  were  hopefully  converted,  and 
became  active  in  the  service  of  Christ.  But  there 
were  three  young  men  in  that  district  who,  though 
they  attended  many  of  the  meetings,  kept  themselves 
aloof  from  the  good  work.  They  were  exhorted  and 
dealt  with  in  kindness,  but  all  to  no  purpose.  One  of 
them  was  dreadfully  profane,  and  all  of  them  treated 
the  subject  with  ridicule.  They  lived  through  the 
precious  season  without  any  share  in  the  blessing. 
Subsequently  they  removed  from  the  place,  and  became 
settled  in  life. 

A  year  or  two  ago  the  one  that  was  so  profane 
was  on  a  fishing  expedition,  when  he  took  cold,  and 
was  brought  upon  a  sick-bed,  from  which  he  never 
arose.  His  friends  were  alarmed,  and  spoke  to  him 
about  his  soul,  but  he  railed  on  them,  and  died  with 
curses  on  his  lips.  What  reason  have  men  to  re- 
gard the  words  of  the  apostle,  "  Beware  therefore, 
lest  that  come  upon  you  which  is  spoken  of  in  tlie 
prophets :  Behold,  ye  despisers,  and  wonder,  and 
perish." 

Another  of  the  three  young  men  living  in  an  adja- 
cent town,  in  his  eagerness  to  accumulate  property, 
exposed  himself,  fell  sick,  and  died  after  a  short  ill- 
ness, without  hope. 

I  was  called  to  visit  a  young  man  in  the  last  stages 
of  consumption.  I  found  him  near  his  end,  but  wholly 
insensible  of  his  danger  as  a  sinner  out  of  Christ ;  lie 
could  not  be  aroused  to  a  sense  of  his  condition.  He 
listened  to  a  prayer ;  the  next  day  his  reason  in  a 
measure  left  him,  and  he  died  without  anv  signs  of 


534  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

repentance.     This  was  the  last  of  the  three.     IIow 
affecting  to  attend  such  a  funeral. 

These  facts  confirm  the  remark  often  made,  that  a 
revival  of  religion  is  a  sealing  time.  Some  are  sealed 
to  life,  others  are  sealed  to  death.  Those  young  men, 
to  all  human  view,  witnessed  their  last  season  of 
grace,  received  their  last  call,  and  rejected  their  last 
invitation  of  mercy.  Oh  how  dangerous  to  resist  the 
Spirit  of  God.  m.  t. 


DEATH   OF  A  MISER. 

Some  years  since,  there  lived  in  the  town  of  I , 

which  lies  embosomed  among  the  hills  of  Vermont,  in 
the  northern  part  of  the  state,  an  old  man  of  some 
seventy  years.  He  was  a  worldly  man,  emphatically 
so.  His  toil  and  care  had  been  to  accumulate  cor- 
ruptible things,  and  God  had  granted  him  his  desires; 
he  had  lands,  and  silver,  and  gold.  Still,  they  were 
of  little  use  to  him,  for  his  spirit  was  so  grasping  and 
avaricious,  that  he  would  scarcely  allow  himself  the 
necessaries  of  life. 

The  subject  of  religion  was  an  unwelcome  one  to 
him  ;  he  gave  no  heed  to  its  claims.  And  indeed,  so 
long  had  he  resisted  the  conviction  of  his  understand- 
ing and  conscience,  that  he  was  hardened  beyond  feel- 
ing, and  as  we  feared,  a  reprobate.     There  had  been 

many  revivals  in  I ,  some  of  them  of  great  power 

and  extent,  but  he  had  passed  through  them  all  ap- 
parently but  little  affected.  He  lived  to  make  money  ; 
he  loved  it ;  and  so  absorbed  was  lie  in  its  pursuit, 
that  he  was  utterly  indifferent  to  what  was  passing 


DEATH   OF   A  MISER.  53r) 

around  bim,  except  as  it  told  upon  the  object  of  liis 
devotion.  It  was  sad  to  sec  liim,  stricken  and  bowed 
with  years,  his  eye  dimmed  by  age,  and  his  hand 
tremulous  from  nervous  derangement  j  for  you  felt,  as 
you  gazed  upon  him,  that  his  hopes  and  joys  were  all 
"of  the  earth,  earthy." 

Suddenly  we  missed  him  from  the  streets,  and  his 
accustomed  places  of  resort,  and  were  told  that  he 
was  sick  and  must  die.  We  hastened  to  his  house, 
and  entered  the  chamber  of  death.  How  dark  and 
cheerless  was  that  room.  There  was  no  Saviour 
there,  lighting  up  by  his  presence  the  gloom,  bright- 
ening the  eye,  and  strengthening  the  heart  by  his 
faith,  and  blessed  hopes.  There  lay  the  old  man, 
groaning  in  the  wretchedness  of  his  spirit,  not  be- 
cause he  was  a  sinner,  and  was  trembling  at  tlie 
thought  of  the  eternal  world  to  whicli  he  was  hasten- 
ing, but  because  he  was  about  to  leave  his  treasures — 
he  could  take  none  of  his  mortgages  and  bonds  and 
acres  and  gold  with  him — they  must  all  be  left  behind. 
For  these  he  had  sacrificed  every  thing,  and  the 
thought  of  an  eternal  separation  from  them  was  intol- 
erable. Efforts  to  turn  his  thoughts  in  another  direc- 
tion were  useless,  for  all  his  affections  were  fastened 
to  this  world,  and  he  would  not  dislodge  them. 

But  death  was  fast  making  him  his  prey  ;  the  dying 
man  writhed  in  the  agony  of  his  soul,  and  looked 
imploringly  to  his  nurse.  She  bent  over  liim,  and 
after  catching  his  few  and  imperfectly  uttered  words, 
quickly  brought  from  a  chest  standing  near,  a  bag 
well  filled  with  coin.  This  the  dying  man  clasped 
convulsively  in  his  hand,  and  straightway  his  spirit 
returned  unto  the  God  who  G'avc  it. 


536  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

What  a  deathbed!  Who  would  die  in  such  a 
■way  ?  Gold  in  a  dead  man's  hand  !  He  would  have 
it  in  life — he  wished  it  in  death.  But  the  two  were 
now  separated — that  on  which  his  eye  had  feasted 
was  no  longer  his. 

What  think  you  of  such  a  death ;  rather,  what 
think  you  of  such  a  life  ? 

Is  it  not  preferable  to  have  one's  treasures  so 
placed  that  when  he  dies  he  can  go  to  them  ?  Beware 
how  you  labor  for  the  meat  that  perisheth,  lest  you 
become  so  fascinated,  so  deeply  absorbed,  as  to  beg- 
gar your  soul  for  eternity.  F.  b.  w. 


"I  WAS  NOT  ONE   OF  TIIEM." 

I  am  one  of  those  pastors  who  continue  the  good 
old  apostolical  practice  of  visiting  "from  house  to 
house"  among  my  people.  And  although  a  most  la- 
borious, it  is  an  exceedingly  important  and  efficient 
way  of  doing  good.  It  gives  access  to  minds  and 
hearts  that  can  never  be  reached  from  the  pulpit;  it 
tends  to  bind  pastor  and  people  together,  and  it  is 
richly  suggestive  of  topics  for  public  instruction. 

On  a  damp  and  chilly  day  in  the  month  of  Novem- 
ber, I  went  forth  on  a  pastoral  visitation  among  my 
people.  It  was  my  first  regular  visitation  after  my 
settlement  among  them.  As  the  day  was  drawing 
towards  its  close,  I  entered  a  farm-house  wearing 
externally  and  internally  an  air  of  comfort.  Every 
thing  was  in  pleasant  preparation  for  my  reception. 
On  either  side  of  a  glowing  fire  sat  the  father  and 
mother  of  the  household,  now  well  advanced  in  years  ; 


"I  WAS  NOT  ONE  OF  THEM."  53T 

and  ranged  between  them  were  the  other  members  of 
the  family,  the  youngest  child,  then  a  lad  of  about 
fifteen  years,  holding  his  catechism  in  his  hand.  Pie 
could  repeat  it  from  beginning  to  end,  showing  that, 
as  to  the  theory  of  religion,  his  education  was  not 
neglected.  I  went  round  the  family  group  conversing 
with  each  as  to  their  personal  interest  in  the  work  of 
Christ  for  the  salvation  of  men.  Every  thing  was 
free,  social,  and  pleasant ;  but  while  with  an  intelli- 
gent understanding  of  the  plan  of  salvation,  and  while 
freely  admitting  that  there  was  no  way  for  them  to 
heaven  but  through  faith  in  Jesus  Christ,  I  found,  to 
my  great  grief,  that  parents  and  children  were  aliens 
from  the  commonwealth  of  Israel.  After  giving  to 
each  a  word  of  instruction  adapted  to  their  circum- 
stances, and  to  the  views  expressed  by  them  in  con- 
versation, we  bowed  together  before  the  high  and 
lofty  One ;  and  having  implored  for  them  all  tem- 
poral and  spiritual  good,  I  bade  them  farewell. 

The  father,  whose  natural  strength  many  years 
had  not  impaired,  and  whose  kind  and  gentle  man- 
ners made  him  a  favorite  among  his  neighbors,  fol- 
lowed me  to  the  door,  and  closing  it  after  him,  stop- 
ped me  on  the  porch.  His  countenance  gave  strong 
indications  that  there  was  something  pressing  upon 
his  soul  which  he  wished  to  communicate.  Hoping 
tliat  the  Holy  Spirit  had  blessed  my  visit  to  his  con- 
viction, I  waited  with  anxiety  to  hear  what  he  had 
to  say.  After  a  considerable  pause,  taking  me  by  the 
hand,  he  thus  addressed  me : 

"  I  thank  you  for  this  visit ;  although  the  first  you 
have  made  us,  I  hope  it  will  not  be  the  last.  I  thank 
you  for  all  the  advice  you  have  given  us.  And  as 
23* 


538  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

you  have  but  just  commenced  your  labors  among  us 
as  a  minister,  I  wish  to  give  you  a  word  of  advice, 
based  on  my  own  experience.  Let  us  old  people 
alone,  for  we  are  hopeless  subjects,  and  devote  your 
I  labors  to  the  youth  of  your  flock.  Forty  years  ago, 
when  Mr.  A was  our  pastor,  I  was  greatly  anx- 
ious about  my  soul.  Many  were  then  converted,  hut 
I  was  not  one  of  them.     During  the  ministry  of  Mr. 

M I  was  often  greatly  anxious  about  my  soul — I 

went  to  the  conference-meeting — many  were  convert- 
ed in  the  successive  revivals  enjoyed,  hut  I  was  7iot  one 
of  them.  And  now,  for  years  that  are  passed,  I  have 
not  had  a  single  feeling  on  the  subject.  I  know  that 
I  am  a  lost  sinner — I  know  that  I  can  be  saved  only 
through  Jesus  Christ — I  feel  persuaded  that  when  I 
die  I  shall  go  to  hell  for  ever — I  believe  all  you 
preach — I  believe  all  you  have  said  to  me  and  my 
family,  but  I  feel  it  no  more  than  if  I  were  a  block  of 
marble.  And  I  expect  to  live  and  to  die  just  as  I  am. 
So  tliat  my  advice  to  you  is  to  leave  us  old  people  to 
ourselves  and  our  sins,  for  you  cannot  do  us  much 
good,  and  devote  yourself  to  the  work  of  seeking  the 
conversion  of  the  young." 

And  all  this,  and  more,  was  said  with  a  kind  and 
pleasing  bearing  which  forbade  every  thing  like  sus- 
picion of  his  motives,  and  yet  with  a  cool  deliberate- 
ncss  which  made  me  feel  that  tlie  man  was  a  mystery. 
After  placing  before  him  the  fulness  of  the  redemption 
which  is  in  Christ  Jesus,  we  parted. 

I  remembered  the  incident,  and  watched  the  prog- 
ress of  this  man.  His  seat  was  rarely  vacant  in  the 
sanctuary.  To  hear  the  word  preached,  he  breasted 
many  a  storm  which  kept  the  professor  of  religion  at 


"I  WAS  NOT  ONE  OF  THEM."  5^,0 

liomc.  I  made  liiin  other  visits;  and  while  he  admit- 
ted all  I  said,  and  freely  confessed  his  lost  state,  I 
never  witnessed  in  him  tlie  slightest  ruffle  of  religious 
emotion.  He  was  a  true  prophet  of  his  own  fate. 
He  lived  as  he  predicted ;  and  so  he  died.  And  we 
laid  him  down  in  a  hopeless  grave,  after  having  spent 
his  threescore  years  and  ten  without  repentance  tow- 
ards God,  or  faith  in  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  in  the 
midst  of  a  congregation  over  which  God  has  often 
made  windows  in  heaven. 

The  lessons  taught  by  this  incident  are  very  obvi- 
ous, highly  important,  and  deeply  impressive.  To  a 
few  of  these,  the  prayerful  attention  of  the  reader  is 
earnestly  requested. 

Arc  you  advanced  in  life  ?  Are  you  approaching 
the  verge  of  old  age  ?  Then  ponder,  unless  you  are  a 
Christian,  the  many  probabilities  that  you  will  never 
be  converted.  "  Can  a  man  be  born  again  when  he 
is  old?"  Being  long  habituated  to  certain  ways  of 
thinking  and  doing,  the  aged  find  it  difficult  to  change. 
Old  ways  and  things  become,  to  a  certain  extent,  sa- 
cred. Hence  their  attachment  to  old  modes  of  dress 
and  of  living — to  old  habitations  and  associations. 
The  old  lieathen  die  as  they  live.  The  aged  papist 
dies  as  he  lives.  The  most  gross  absurdities  of  his 
system  of  worship  have  become  interwoven  with  his 
feelings  on  the  subject  of  religion,  and  form  tlie  most 
sacred  part  of  it.  And  the  aged  moralist,  infidel, 
atheist,  die  as  they  live.  Custom  renders  every  thing 
easy.  And  the  man  who,  through  a  long  life,  has 
been  accustomed  to  hear  and  to  assent  to  the  truth  of 
heaven  with  indifference,  will,  to  a  moral  certainty, 
die  as  he  lives.      His  habits  are  to  him  what  his 


510  SKETCHES  FROM   LIFE. 

skill  is  to  the  Ethiopian — what  his  spots  are  to  the 
leopard. 

And  the  ground  of  the  moral  certainty  that  you 
will  not  be  converted  lies  not  in  God,  but  in  yourself. 
God  is  ever  waiting  and  willing  to  be  gracious ;  but 
you  have  been  so  long  accustomed  to  neglect  every 
call  to  work  out  your  salvation,  that  there  is  no  prob- 
ability that  you  will  now  attend  to  it.  But  although 
your  feet  are  on  the  borders  of  time,  you  have  only  to 
look  to  Jesus  in  true  faith,  to  be  prepared  for  eter- 
nity. At  the  eleventh  hour  of  your  life  the  gospel 
puts  the  cup  of  salvation  into  your  trembling  hand. 
0  hasten  to  drink  it,  remembering  that  this  hour  is  on 
the  wing,  and  that  when  it  ends  you  will  be  in  the 
grave,  where  there  is  no  work,  nor  device,  nor  know- 
ledge, nor  repentance. 

Are  you  one  of  that  large  number  who  have  been 
often  convicted  of  sin  without  being  converted  ;  who 
have  been  often  deeply  impressed  with  divine  truth 
without  receiving  "  with  meekness  the  ingrafted  word, 
which  is  able  to  save  your  soul?"  If  so,  then  yours 
is  an  alarming  state.  You  are  passing  through  that 
process  which  has  converted  many  a  tender  heart  into 
a  lieart  of  steel.  Of  this  process  there  are  many  illus- 
trations. The  young  physician  is  excited,  perhaps 
disgusted,  the  first  time  he  witnesses  a  dissection  ;  but 
he  will  soon  use  the  knife  upon  the  living  or  dead 
subject,  without  the  least  emotion.  The  young  soldier, 
when  he  first  treads  the  battle-field,  is  filled  with  fear 
and  trepidation  ;  but  in  the  course  of  time  the  clangor 
of  tlie  war-trumpet  is  to  him  the  sweetest  music,  and 
tlie  field  of  his  highest  glory  is  the  field  of  blood  and 
carnage.     And  in  a  similar  way,  the  heart  that  melts 


"1   WAS  NOT   ONE   OF  THEM."  541 

under  the  preaching  of  tlie  gospel,  and  that  trembles 
at  the  word  of  the  Lord,  becomes  as  hard  as  the  flint, 
and  as  unimpressible.  This  state  is  gained  by  slow 
stages.  Satan  does  not  permit  the  heart  to  offend  the 
judgment,  by  asking  too  much  at  once.  He  asks  but 
here  a  little,  and  there  a  little.  And  by  degrees  the 
judgment  is  perverted,  and  the  conscience  is  scared, 
and  fear  is  overcome,  and  the  warnings  of  God's  word 
and  providence  lose  their  point  and  power — and  the 
most  awful  truths  of  heaven,  whose  reality  the  mind 
never  questions,  fall  as  lightly  upon  the  soul  as  does 
the  snow  drop  upon  the  rock.  Thus  we  pass  on  from 
youth,  when  the  feelings,  like  the  bosom  of  tlie  ocean, 
are  ruffled  by  the  slightest  zephyr,  to  old  age,  when 
the  feelings  arc  like  the  Dead  sea,  whose  surface  can 
scarcely  be  excited  by  the  sweeping  whirlwind,  and 
which,  if  excited,  soon  relapses  into  its  sullen  stillness. 
And  the  longer  the  process  is  continued,  the  harder 
the  heart  becomes.  If  religious  impressions,  often 
made  on  your  mind,  have  been  as  often  erased,  yours 
is  a  fearful  state.  If  the  slightest  whisper  of  the 
Spirit  yet  calls  you  to  the  cross,  go  at  once,  lest  when 
that  whisper  dies  away  upon  your  ear,  the  Spirit  may 
take  its  flight,  saying,  "  He  is  joined  to  his  idols ;  I 
will  hereafter  let  him  alone."  This  will  be  sealing 
the  instrument  which  consigns  you  to  eternal  death. 

Are  you  yet  m  your  youth,  with  the  dew  of  the 
morning  of  your  life  sparkling  on  your  green  leaf? 
Then  has  this  incident  a  most  important  lesson  for 
you.  If  diflBculties,  many  and  great,  impede  the  con- 
version of  the  aged,  how  important  to  secure  your 
salvation  while  young.  Many  promises  are  now  in 
your  favor,  but  they  are  daily  diminishing.      Your 


542  SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 

heart,  now  easily  impressed,  is  becoming  harder  and 
harder.  You  are  now  comparatively  but  little  im- 
mersed in  the  world,  but  it  is  throwing  daily  a  new 
fold  around  you.  You  should  not  be  ignorant  of  the 
important  truth,  that  the  probabilities  of  your  salva- 
tion are  becoming  fewer  and  weaker  as  your  years 
roll  on.  It  is  an  easy  matter  to  break  up  the  earth  in 
April  and  May,  and  to  plant  in  its  bosom  the  good 
seed  that  bears  fruit  in  autumn ;  but  what  power  can 
cultivate  it  when  congealed  by  the  cold,  and  covered 
by  the  snows  of  December  ?  Seize,  0  seize,  then,  the 
halcyon  days  of  youth  to  prepare  for  old  age,  death, 
and  eternity.  Wait  not  until  covered  by  the  rust, 
and  weakened  by  the  infirmities  of  years.  To-day,  if 
you  Avill  hear  His  voice,  harden  not  your  heart.  Op- 
portunity, grace,  mercy,  heaven,  eternal  glory,  are  all 
upon  the  wing  of  the  present  hour ;  condemnation, 
hell,  eternal  despair,  the  worm  that  never  dies,  may 
all  be  in  the  train  of  the  next.  So  improve  your  youth 
as  not  to  be  left  to  say  in  old  age,  "  Many  were  con- 
verted, BUT  I  WAS  NOT  ONE  OP  THEM."  N.  M. 


*  • 


■--ftf  •;„* 


V'".-   S^^-^<^ 


v\ 


